


The General

by jemmymadison316



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Force Soulmates, Gay, Immortality, M/M, Mad Scientists, Science Experiments, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Soulmates, anti-soulmate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:50:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19265326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jemmymadison316/pseuds/jemmymadison316
Summary: What would it be like to have a soul mate? Someone who always accepts you? Someone who is always by your side? But what if you didn't get to pick who that person was? What if you forgot who you were and the things you loved?Are soul mates a good thing? Growing up on a small island, Nathaniel had never heard of one. But when his troubled past sends him to the city, he discovers a world of pain thanks to such a person: his soul mate Clarence.Two scientists have been searching for a cure for years and are getting close when the mysterious island boy lands in Lewis' hands. He is certain humanity can be saved if the boy can resist the third contact with his soul mate that would forever doom the two boys together. But Lewis' protege has his own plans and humanity as a whole could be lost forever.*Inspired by Hamilton*





	The General

THE GENERAL

 

1

“Boy!”

The shout cracked through the busy wharf and the slender redhead sprinted in the opposite direction.

“Stop! Thief!”

The youth ran faster as the man took chase. He knew these docks well having worked on them for half his life. He maneuvered around barrels and under ropes, his bare feet pounding the worn wood. The rotten fish scent burned his nose as he tried to lose the man through a string of butcher’s stalls.

“Boy!”

Running even faster, the youth pushed past several men and jumped over a crate. He came down hard and a rusty nail pierced between his toes. He cussed enough to raise eyebrows even on the dock and staggered to keep going as his injured foot left a trail of blood behind him.

But he had lost precious seconds and a hand gripped his arm and squeezed into his bicep—the only strong part of his fragile body thanks to moving freight every day for years.

“I’ve had enough of you, boy,” the man said with a sneer and spit on the young, sunburned face.

The youth bared his teeth but couldn’t fight the iron grip on his arm.

The sheriff dragged the boy away from the docks and up the hill to the island jail.

Pain sent jolts through his slender body with each rock that hit the still-bleeding wound on his foot.

The jail door creaked open and a scent of mold and decay wafted out. The sheriff threw the youth inside. A bored clerk looked up from a tattered magazine. “Yes?”

“I caught the dock thief,” the sheriff said and puffed out his chest.

“Hmm.” The clerk stood and yawned. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Nathaniel Malone,” the youth said fiercely but both men busted out laughing.

“Malone, eh?” the clerk said and spit spewed freely as he chuckled. “Our island thief is the whore’s bastard son. What a surprise.” He rolled his eyes. “Thank you, sheriff.” This time he looked at the man with more interest. “We’ll make him nice and comfortable here.”

The sheriff tipped his hat. “I don’t doubt that.” He whistled and left the dirty, old building.

Nathaniel jumped back from the clerk’s reaching clawed hands. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Thief.” The clerk kicked him and the boy stumbled as his weight landed on his injured foot. “You have nowhere to go, bastard.”

The clang of the rusty iron door echoed in Nathaniel’s head as the clerk locked him away. Stealing, everyone said. He called it surviving. While he worked the docks every day, he was rarely paid. Maybe a few coins now and then. Maybe a loaf of hard bread. Nothing steady except the coils of rope he made his bed in every night. Stealing food was the only thing that kept him alive.

Nathaniel sat on the hard, wooden cot and cradled his injured foot. Dirt and blood made a muddy paste and he couldn’t see the injury through the grime. It continued to ache and when he moved his big toe, a flash of white-hot pain raced up his leg. He was used to pain. His arms and hands were scarred from countless rope burns. At least once a week a splintered box cut him. No matter how much he worked, blisters still popped on his calloused hands. And always that gnawing ache of hunger in his belly. Pain was a daily trial, nothing more.

Trial. Would he get one, he wondered? The island had a bad reputation for sending criminals out to sea. Was that where he was destined? Well, it couldn’t be any worse than his life here. He’d always been poor—ninety-nine percent of the population on the island was—but after his mother died, he lost the roof over his head, lost the only person who loved him. He’d tried to find a real job and get away from the docks. A shop clerk hired him and praised his quick learning and skill with numbers. But he was the whore’s son and that tainted everything. Customers didn’t want to buy food from a shop that had a dirty clerk. The man had been apologetic when he fired Nathaniel and gave him a month’s salary as compensation.

The docks were the only place he could work. The only place where there were people dirtier than he was. How long had it been? Four years, five years? Time meant nothing to him.

The day dragged on. Nathaniel had never sat still this long except to sleep and the ache of hunger grew sharper with nothing to distract himself. His throat dried out and his tongue stuck to his gums.

When he heard footsteps passing nearby, Nathaniel limped to the iron bars. “Sir?” he called out. “May I have some water, please?”

Whoever it was went away without answering his plea.

The shadows on the wall faded as Nathaniel’s bottom grew numb from sitting on the hard cot. He’d never known his dad and often wondered what his life would have been like if he’d had a father. Still poor but probably not starving. Probably wouldn’t be in jail right now. He shook his head and tried to think of something other than his past. He would rather work for pennies than deal with his thoughts.

Darkness settled into the jail cell and distant doors banged. Nathaniel staggered back to his cell door and listened, desperate for someone to bring him water.

Footsteps echoed through the stone hallway again and he called out.

The heavy boots grew nearer and Nathaniel glimpsed the darker shadow of an approaching figure. No jangling keys meant he was probably a guard.

“Water, please,” gasped Nathaniel.

The guard stepped in front of the rusty bars. “Sure, kid.”

So desperate, he didn’t register the sound of a zipper and it took a moment after the urine hit him to realize what the man was doing.

“Fuck you!” Nathaniel shouted. He grabbed his cot and threw it at the iron bars. “Fuck you!”

Laughter rang out through the dark chambers as the guard walked away.

Nathaniel huddled himself in the corner of the cell. His foot throbbed from his outburst and sudden movement and the ache seeped up his leg. He made himself smaller and pressed his eyes against his bare knees. He wouldn’t cry. His last tears had been for his mother when he was ten. But for the first time in his life, he couldn’t run. Caught like the untamed, diseased animal people thought him. He was trapped.

***

“Boy!”

Nathaniel lifted his stuffy head from his knees and saw the jail clerk standing before the rusty bars.

“Time to go. Get up.”

Pain exploded from Nathaniel’s foot as he shifted his position and he let out a gasp. He struggled to get off the ground but between the pain and his stiff limbs from sleeping huddled over, he couldn’t push himself off the floor.

“Quit stalling, you maggot.”

On his hands and knees, Nathaniel managed to push himself upright on his good leg and hobble over to the bars.

The clerk unlocked the door and yanked Nathaniel through.

Another gasp escaped his clenched jaw as he was hurried along. Once outside, the sunlight burned his eyes and Nathaniel swayed as he balanced on one foot and the heel of the other. Redness bloomed darker on his sunburned cheeks and went well with the fever glaze in his striking blue eyes.

Two guards grabbed him and dragged the sickly youth back toward the docks. Nathaniel struggled to keep his balance as he hopped along. At first, he could use his heel but once the group hit the rocky, gravel road of town, each drop of his heel sent splintering pain through his injured limb and he fell to relying on the men to half carry him along.

No one made eye contact with him as the guards carted him through the wharves. Even though he knew everyone on the docks, he was a nobody and no one would stand up for him.

Up a rotten gangplank and onto a ship in no better condition, Nathaniel was thrown into a cell below deck.

“Good riddance,” said one guard and spat on him.

Half-delirious with pain, Nathaniel curled up in a corner and drifted into a feverish sleep.

***

Panicked shouts woke him and it took his weary brain several minutes to comprehend the words and the acrid scent floating below deck.

“Fire!”

Nathaniel crawled toward the front of his cell. The rocking movement beneath him meant they were at sea but he had no idea how much time had passed since he’d been thrown aboard the ship.

“Someone let us out!” shouted a man in the cell beside Nathaniel’s.

Smoke burned the youth’s eyes and he struggled to focus against the muddled haze of his feverish brain. He caught sight of his foot and the puss oozing from the wound. He looked away but it wasn’t the puss that bothered him as much as the red lines creeping up his foot under the layer of bloody mud. He’d known many docks workers who’d died from simple infections.

“Come on, let us out!” the man yelled again.

A jingling of keys excited the other criminals and the cells exploded with shouts and cries.

Between the smoke and his wavering consciousness, Nathaniel couldn’t figure out what went on and wished for sleep to overtake him again and end the pain and confusion.

“Hang in there,” said a voice near his ear from the adjoining cell.

He heard a lock click. A moment later, hands hoisted him up and carried him out.

Chaos prevailed on the deck as sailors tried to put out the fire and criminals escaped or added fuel to the blaze.

“Hurry up,” hissed the man who had been shouting below deck earlier.

Nathaniel’s foggy brain registered a beefy man with dark skin, tattoos, and a beanie. He rested his head back against the different young man carrying him and was momentarily soothed by the curly hair tickling his cheek.

“Tai secured a boat, let’s go.”

The young man carrying Nathaniel sped after the man in the beanie. Hidden from most of the chaos near the ship’s bow, a young woman stood guard next to a rowboat swinging wildly over the ocean as the ship lurched powerless to the currents.

A drop of rain splattered on Nathaniel’s red cheeks. He looked at the darkening sky as clouds rolled over each other in dark masses to match the growing waves below.

“We’re not taking strays, Clarence,” said the woman with the rowboat. “Not from the island.”

“He’s just a kid, Tai,” Clarence replied and set Nathaniel in the swaying vessel. He got in next and braced himself as the other two joined and lowered the rowboat into the angry sea.

Icy rain pounded them as the small craft hit the turbulent water. Clarence held onto Nathaniel while the other two fought the current and rowed toward shore.

There was a city, Nathaniel thought as his eyes opened briefly. A damp hand stroked his cheek and he drifted back to hazy sleep.

A sharp crack and a jolt rattled Nathaniel and his injured foot smacked into the side of the rowboat. His cry was lost in the shouts of the other escapees as they hurried to tie the rowboat up and get out as water seeped inside.

“Salvatore, help me,” Clarence said and lifted Nathaniel out of the sinking boat.

The man in the beanie grabbed the sickly boy and Clarence pulled himself onto the dock.

The group paused for a moment to catch a last glimpse of the sinking ship they’d escaped from as a huge wave crashed onto it and broke apart the fire-weakened frame.

“At least we’ll have a good story for the General,” Tai commented as she led her companions away from the water.

“Yes, but remember his rule?” Salvatore glared at Clarence. “No strays from the island.”

Clarence struggled to get Nathaniel’s limp body situated on his back. “Help me drop him off at Jenkin’s then.”

Salvatore and Tai exchanged a glance and agreed.

Through the continued downpour, the soggy squad hurried down muddy streets and to a tall, narrow building. There, Clarence set Nathaniel on the front steps. “Give me your hat,” he told Salvatore.

With an annoyed grunt, Salvatore handed his beanie over and Clarence tugged it over Nathaniel’s red hair and covered his ears.

“Let’s go.” Tai pulled Clarence away. “The General won’t be happy if we’re late.”

Clarence glanced back as he followed his friends and hoped the small redhead—no matter what his crime was to have ended up on that ship—would be okay.

 

2

Fingers pulling back his eyelid woke Nathaniel with a start and he smacked at the intruding hand.

“Easy.” The young man backed off.

Nathaniel looked around in confusion. The room was bright, white, and clean. A far cry from his last clear memory of a dark, dirty jail cell. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at the person who had been prodding him. A vague memory of curly hair tickling his cheek slipped into his brain but this young man had much shorter hair and darker skin. This wasn’t the person who had gotten him off the burning ship.

 _Where am I? Who are you?_ Dozens of questions scrambled through his brain but the only thing his cracked lips could spit out was, “What?”

“I’m Morgan,” he said. “We found you outside on the front steps. You have a nasty infection in your foot. We’ll get you some medication to clear it up. We gave you some pain medication to help.”

Nathaniel rubbed his eyes. He struggled to sit up and the white sheet slipped off his shoulder. “Where are my clothes?” Embarrassment turned his florid cheeks even darker and his ears scarlet.

“Getting washed,” Morgan said. “Just sit tight for ten minutes, okay? You can go once we get you some medication for the infection.”

He struggled to slow his breathing as his mind unclouded and panic set in. Where was he? He stared around the small room devoid of anything except the narrow bed he lay on. “Where am I?” He moved his tongue inside his mouth and realized the parchedness was gone. He noticed a cotton swab taped to his arm and guessed he’d been given fluids.

“New York City,” Morgan said.

Nathaniel shook his head. That was too broad for him to deal with right then. “No, what is _this_ place?”

“We just want to help you.” Morgan adjusted the pillow before it fell off the bed.

Nathaniel grabbed the young man’s shirt. “Who is ‘we’?”

“Easy.” Morgan pried off the agitated redhead’s hand. “An aid group. We’ll get you taken care of.”

A knock sounded outside the door.

“Excuse me.” Morgan left the room.

Nathaniel leaned back against the pillow too confused even to start piecing together what happened, where he was. Had he dreamed the whole burning ship and rescue?

“No, he’s awake.” Morgan’s voice was muffled through the wall.

Leaning forward, Nathaniel could see through the partially opened door and caught sight of Morgan talking to someone in the hallway. The man was tall, dark-skinned with a head of fluffy curls. He dressed in a flashy suit and paced as Morgan talked.

“How did he get off the ship?” he asked.

Morgan shrugged.

“We need answers!” the man exploded. “If he’s the one—”

“Lewis,” Morgan interrupted. “There is zero chance of that. He’s a street rat, nothing more. As soon as Eloise gets the medicine we’ll toss him back out.”

Lewis shook his head. “You’ve been wrong before.” He walked away and his tall frame filled the doorway.

Nathaniel glared at him, unease making him overly aggressive.

“What’s your name?” Lewis asked.

“What’s yours?” Nathaniel stared into his dark eyes.

“Lewis Jenkins.” He stepped closer to the bed. “Your name?”

“Fuck off.”

“I know you’re scared. I only want—”

“I don’t get scared!” Nathaniel shouted. “I just want out of here. I don’t do confined spaces.”

“Your name then,” Lewis insisted. He reached toward the boy.

Nathaniel flinched away and mumbled his name.

“Thank you.” Lewis walked out and drew Morgan with him. “You were wrong,” he hissed and moved out of sight.

“But he’s just a wharf rat,” Morgan said and hurried after the much taller and older man.

Apparently, he was special, Nathaniel thought. Whoop de do.

It wasn’t long before Morgan returned. He handed over a pill and a cup of water and set the boy’s clean clothes on the bed.

“No, thanks,” Nathaniel said and pushed away the water and medicine. He reached for his shorts.

“You’ll lose your foot then,” Morgan said. “You need to cooperate.”

Nathaniel shrugged.

“You won’t survive on the streets.”

“I’ve lived on the streets for years.” Nathaniel maneuvered to dress under the blanket and carefully slipped his bandaged foot through his shorts.

“Not these streets and not with your injured foot.”

Nathaniel pulled on his worn shirt. “Why do you care?”

“Once they find out—”

“Who?” Nathaniel demanded. “Why does poufy hair think I’m special?”

Morgan chewed on a fingernail. “You’re from the island. You’re not supposed to be here.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “What does that mean? A lot of people leave the island.”

“Are you sure, Nathaniel?”

The youth swallowed. Ships left the island constantly but no one from the island except criminals left on them. Those criminals, he knew, stayed at sea. It was what he expected his fate to be until those people—if he hadn’t dreamt them—took him off the burning ship.

“I’m a whore’s son,” he whispered. “I’m not special.”

“On the island, no,” Morgan said, “but here?” He touched Nathaniel’s chin and tilted his head up to look at his eerie blue eyes. “You won’t die, even if you’re killed. The fact that you’re still alive right now is amazing in itself. Most islanders are damned quickly.”

His breathing grew erratic as all the stories his mother told him throughout his childhood rushed back. Tales of islanders who couldn’t die. Islanders who had special powers. All those stories had one thing in common: those people left the island, were hunted down and tortured. They became monsters—damned—but worse, as their human emotions remained. They felt everything that happened and could find no escape.

“I’ll go back to the island,” Nathaniel decided.

Morgan shook his head.

Nathaniel tugged at his hair in defeat. If all those other stories were real then the one about islanders causing shipwrecks as they tried to return home would be, too. No ship would allow him to return without capsizing. He wouldn’t die but the drowning would feel all too real.

“What do I do?” he whispered.

“Stay here,” Morgan said. “Lewis will help you. You’ll be safe.”

Nathaniel sucked in a deep breath. “Okay.”

 

3

The medication cleared up the infection but it took a long time before Nathaniel could walk without a limp. Although he blamed the shoes Morgan made him wear.

“People don’t walk around the city barefoot,” Morgan told him. “You need to blend in.”

“These shoes suck!” He threw the oxford shoes on the floor. “I’m not wearing those pants either.” He shot the corduroy pants on his bed an evil look.

Once Morgan had gotten through to him, Nathaniel submitted to his fate of staying. Lewis gave him a nice room with a window seat—but the window didn’t open and he had to stay in there most of the day. But he had food and water and a promise he would be safe. Safe from what exactly, he still wasn’t sure.

“Nate, come on,” Morgan begged. “We can’t let you leave in those ratty clothes. Don’t you want to go outside?”

Nathaniel sighed. He’d wanted nothing more than to go outside for the week he’d been there but he hadn’t realized it would be on the condition he wore “normal” clothes. He’d only seen young boys wearing shorts—and with hideous stockings—and no one wearing his island-style shirt.

“I’ll put the clothes on if you tell me what you really do,” he said.

“Nope,” Morgan replied, “because I don’t really want to take you outside anyway.”

Nathaniel grumbled. He dressed in the heavy clothes and pulled on the gray beanie that Morgan said he’d been wearing when he arrived. That wasn’t island fabric but he liked it and it gave him an odd sense of security.

They walked outside onto a busy street. Nathaniel stopped at once and stared at the mess of people, animals, and motorized vehicles all vying for space on the cobbled roads.

“Nate?” Morgan tugged at his arm. “Let’s go to the park. It’ll be less overwhelming.”

Nathaniel allowed Morgan to drag him along as he stumbled on one foot and the heel of the other. He was certain everyone stared at him. Did he give off weird vibes that he was from the island? He’d known nothing other than his pathetic existence on the docks and couldn’t fathom anyone thinking he was anything but trash. Maybe he still was trash and that was why everyone stared.

The park was better and offered his first glimpse of green in the city. The grass was lush and he longed to run barefoot through it.

“How old are you?” Morgan asked as they walked through the grassy field. He kept his arm looped through Nathaniel’s to steady him.

“Fourteen or fifteen,” Nathaniel said. “Maybe sixteen. I lost track after my mom died.”

Morgan nodded. “You look a lot younger. I’m sixteen.”

“What happened to your family?” He gazed up at the huge tree as they walked beneath its branches.

“Well, my parents died when I was a baby,” Morgan said. “My uncle took me in, but then a bunch of other relatives moved in with him, too. I was the youngest and no one gave a crap about me. I got tired of it and ran away about a year ago.”

“Neat.” Nathaniel pulled a leaf off the tree. “What species?”

“Oak, I think,” Morgan said. “Neat?” He raised an eyebrow.

Nathaniel shrugged. “I’ve been alone since I was ten. Families are overrated. How did you get messed up in the likes of poufy hair and whatever the hell you do?”

“I dunno, just happened.” Morgan tightened his grip on Nathaniel’s arm and steered him sharply to the right.

“What?” Nathaniel looked back and caught sight of a group of young people watching them.

“There are a lot of gangs in the city,” Morgan explained. “Most of them work for the General. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Then tell me what you do and who the General is.” He stopped. “I’ll scream if you don’t.”

Morgan glanced at the group. They would definitely investigate if Nathaniel threw a tantrum. “Fine.” He pointed out a spot behind a nearby tree for them to sit.

Nathaniel pulled off his shoes at once and slowly flexed his injured foot. “Go on.”

“The General keeps everyone safe,” Morgan explained and plucked a piece of grass. “His leadership keeps things in order.”

“How?”

Morgan shrugged. “He just does.”

“And what do you do?” pressed Nathaniel. He watched the blade of grass spin between Morgan’s fingers.

“Another time, I don’t want to overwhelm you.” Morgan knotted the blade of grass. “But with your power—”

“I don’t really have powers.” Nathaniel pinched his bottom lip.

“You can’t die, Nate.” Morgan stared at him. “That’s a pretty big power.”

Nathaniel sighed. “It’s ironic since that’s the only thing I want to do. Are there a lot of other islanders here?”

“I don’t think so,” Morgan said. “As I told you, most are damned not long after they arrive.”

“Then what happens to them?” He stared into Morgan’s dark eyes.

“I think they’re locked up.” Morgan shrugged. “It’s safer and not as if they can do anything productive for society. This way keeps everyone safe. Ready to go back?”

“I guess.” Nathaniel tied his shoelaces together and slung them over his shoulder.

Morgan closed his eyes briefly but didn’t argue. He helped Nathaniel to his feet and they headed back across the grassy park.

“Nice hat!”

Nathaniel looked over at the group of young people they’d seen earlier, the ones Morgan had steered him away from.

“Don’t respond,” Morgan hissed and yanked at Nathaniel’s arm.

The sudden jolt knocked him off balance as his painful toes took half his weight. He cussed as he fell to his knees.

Morgan tried to yank him up as the group approached.

“Like I said, nice hat.” The largest of the group plucked off the gray beanie. “I used to have one like this, didn’t I Tai?” he asked the young woman.

 _Tai?_ The name triggered something in Nathaniel’s mind but fell away too quickly to grasp.

“Leave us alone,” Morgan said. He got Nathaniel to his feet and picked up the dropped shoes. “Give him back the hat.”

“This is actually my hat.” The big guy tugged it over his head.

“Salvatore, give it back to him,” whispered the third member of the group. His freckled face gave him a youthful look. “He needs it.”

“Shush.” He stepped in front of the young companion while the one called Tai looked around as if searching for something.

“Keep it,” Morgan said and pulled Nathaniel away.

“I want my hat.” He broke free and hobbled to the group. He stumbled and the freckled youth caught him.

A stray curl brushed against Nathaniel’s cheek and his eyes shot up into the concerned gaze. “You saved my life,” he whispered.

“Shh.”

Nathaniel shrieked when Morgan yanked him away.

“You’re going to get us killed,” Morgan hissed at him through gritted teeth. From pure panic and adrenaline, he lifted Nathaniel off the ground and carted him away.

“I want my hat!” Nathaniel fought him but stronger hands lifted him away and he went limp in Lewis’ arms.

“What were you thinking?” Lewis berated Morgan. “He’s not disciplined enough to leave.” He glanced over his shoulder but the other group had scattered. “You won’t get a second chance, Morgan.”

Morgan stared at the ground. “I understand.”

Lewis carried Nathaniel down the noisy street and set him inside the brick house. “You’re not ready to leave, Nathaniel. You stay here.”

Nathaniel stared up at him. “Screw you.”

***

“You should have let him keep the hat,” Clarence scolded as they walked back to their house through a narrow alleyway.  “He needed it.”

“He also needed to be left on the damn ship.” Salvatore glared at him.

“Guys, we’re being followed,” Tai said. They stopped and so did the footsteps behind them.

“So he could have drowned for eternity?” Clarence spat.

Tai kicked him. “Quiet.”

They listened and waited but heard nothing.

Once at the house, Clarence continued the conversation. “He has the worst fate of anyone. That’s not a power but a curse.” He threw open the door to the bunkroom they shared. “Why couldn’t the General have made an exception? This kid is the one we need to save more than anyone else.”

“You’re new at this, Clarence,” Salvatore said. “You don’t know all the dangers. We can’t work with islanders. It’s a flat no.”

“It’s not fair.” Clarence crawled into his bottom bunk.

“Why are you so attached to this kid?” Tai asked.

Clarence kept quiet and faced the wall.

“Clare?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled. “I want him to be safe.”

Salvatore pulled off his beanie and shared a look with Tai. “Here, Clare.” He held out the hat.

Clarence rolled over. “What?”

“It’ll still have his scent,” Salvatore said. “See what happens.”

Clarence scooted back against the wall. “No. I don’t want to know.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Tai said.

“The General could kill me.” He stared at his companions. “No soul mates, that’s his rule. We stay unattached and do our job. The second I know, I’m done, you guys. You know what happens. It’s why the General forbids it. Wash the hat, Sal. Don’t give me this burden.”

“But if he is,” Tai said, “we need to know. The General wants us to keep our eye on him and if this kid sets you off, Clare, we’re all screwed. If we know, we can plan ahead.”

“You’re probably fine anyway,” Salvatore added. “You didn’t react when you rescued him off the ship. You had his scent on you.”

“Adrenaline mode, though,” Tai reminded him. “You can stay in contact longer and the three touch rule doesn’t apply.” She looked at Clarence. “Today was the second time, which means you’re more susceptible to reacting. If this kid touches you a third time and your soul mates… As I said, we’ll be screwed. Smell the hat, Clare.”

Clarence kept himself against the wall. “I want to talk to the General first.”

“Nope,” Salvatore was firm. “He does not like talking about soul mates.”

“If I smell the hat then we’ll have to talk to him about that,” Clarence said and hunched his shoulders up tight.

“You sound sure.” Tai worried her lip between her fingers. “Are you reacting?”

“Wash the hat, Salvatore,” Clarence begged. His heart jackhammered in his chest.

“Shit,” Tai and Salvatore said together.

“For real, Salvatore!” Clarence pressed his hands over his nose and banged his head against the wall.

Tai shoved Salvatore away. “Wash it.”

Once the hat was out of the room, Clarence relaxed and burrowed under his blankets.

Tai sat on the floor next to his bunk. “I’m sorry, Clare. It’s bad enough to have a soul mate but this kid? Damn.”

“What do we do?” Clarence lifted up his tear-streaked face. “Is there a way to break it?”

“Not that the General has yet discovered.” Tai watched him with a downturned mouth. “You can’t go near this kid again. Ever.”

Clarence nodded. “The General will need to know why. I’ll have to leave, won’t I?”

“No.” Tai stroked his cheek. “Another team can take over. We won’t let you go. You should shower and change.”

Clarence scooted out of his bunk and headed for the shower room.

He’d joined the General’s crew less than a year ago at the same time as Tai. Salvatore was an older recruit and bonded quickly with them. Already they were one of the General’s strongest team—which kept order by many different means. Clarence had never belonged anywhere before and the thought of losing his brother and sister over a soul mate crushed him.

Soul mates were bad news. They controlled you, took over your mind and heart. If they died, you didn’t recover. He supposed the fact that his likely soul mate couldn’t die was a plus but if this kid ended up in the position where he was in eternal damnation after their third touch, Clarence guessed he’d feel it as well.

He grabbed a towel and soap from his locker and turned on his favorite shower in the middle of the row. He was convinced it had the best water pressure. He turned on the adjacent shower, too, and threw his clothes under the spray.

What would it be like to love someone that strongly, he wondered as he lathered the bar of soap in his hand. A shiver ran through him as he caught a faint scent that wasn’t his own. He closed his eyes. He would belong to someone forever then.

No.

He scrubbed hard at his skin. Not that redheaded kid, not an islander. Anyone else maybe but not someone who couldn’t die and would never have a normal life since he’d left the island. Plus, he’d been put on a criminal ship. Who knew what that boy was capable of?

It was pure bad luck that his group had been sent to infiltrate the ship that caught on fire. Without the fire, he and his companions wouldn’t have had to escape to save themselves. Without the risk, he wouldn’t have felt drawn to the kid and saved him. The kid would have remained at sea where he was meant to be and none of this foolishness would have begun.

Now he had to deal with an agonizing need and the knowledge he had a soul mate. He pounded the bar of soap against his chest as if he could break free the longing.

“You okay?” Tai called out from the doorway. “It’s been, like, twenty minutes.”

“Fine.” Clarence turned off the water and dried off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and picked up the wet clothes. He fought the urge to smell them for any last trace of his soul mate. He joined Tai and handed over the clothes.

“Your blankets are all in the wash, too,” Tai said. “Salvatore is cleaning the bunkroom. Give him another ten minutes.”

Clarence nodded and a sudden sadness sank into his body and his limbs grew heavy.

Tai watched the color drain out of her friend’s face. “I’m really sorry, Clarence. Some distance will make things right again, I promise.”

“I hope so.” He watched Tai walk away, his pain too great to follow.

 

4

Lewis kept Nathaniel locked in his room for a week. His daughter, Eloise, brought up meals since Morgan wasn’t allowed to speak to him. After two days, Nathaniel gave up trying to get any conversation out of the young girl.

By the fifth day, Nathaniel screamed as often and as long as he could. Isolation was bad enough and he needed to do things, anything.

He broke down sobbing on Eloise the sixth day and scared the little girl so much that no one brought him dinner. The hunger pains he hadn’t felt in a few weeks came back with a vengeance and he cried and screamed most of the night.

Finally, early on the eighth day, Lewis let him out. “You can go in the yard but you don’t leave the house otherwise. Understood?”

“No,” Nathaniel said. “Why can’t I leave?”

“Didn’t Morgan tell you about the General?” Lewis asked. He watched the kid hobble around.

“That he’s some kind of leader.” He stretched and spun on his good foot. “What does that have to do with anything? Who were those people in the park?”

Lewis crossed his arms. “They work for the General. Kidnapping you is probably their main agenda. Then the General will kill you and you’ll be stuck in eternal damnation. _Because you can’t die_ ,” he stressed.

Nathaniel groaned at the reminder. He’d spent fourteen—probably sixteen—years never hearing that and within a few weeks he was already tired of the fact. But even so, he didn’t wish to return to the island. There he’d be reminded he was a whore’s son. Being told you couldn’t die was a slight improvement.

“Is the General like a god?” Nathaniel headed for the stairs and gave Lewis no choice but to follow.

“To his followers, probably.” He watched the kid hop down the stairs on one foot. “I’ve not seen him in many years. People say he’s magnetic; everyone wants to do his bidding with or without cause.”

“Can he die?” Nathaniel headed for the back door.

“Yes.”

Nathaniel turned around. “Then kill him.”

“It’s not that simple,” Lewis said. He reached over Nathaniel’s head and held the back door shut. “No one can get close to him. He has many guards. Plus he doesn’t venture out much. He knows he’s a target. Unfortunately, he’s not stupid.”

Nathaniel stared up at Lewis. “Lucky.”

His brows knitted together. “Huh?”

“That the General’s followers got stuck with someone smart and I’m stuck with you.”

Grinding his teeth, Lewis opened the back door and shoved the kid outside. He locked the door and walked away while Nathaniel made faces through the window.

A brisk wind blew through the yard and Nathaniel wished for his beanie as he stared at the tall block wall surrounding the small garden. He was certain those three—Salvatore, Tai, and Clarence—had gotten him off the burning boat. Why, he didn’t know. If they wanted to “kill” him, why didn’t they leave him? Why didn’t they take him straight to the General?

Didn’t matter. He wanted out of this place. He needed his freedom.

He wandered around the walls and tried to find a spot he could climb. But the blocks were smooth and the only tree grew in the center of the yard. Only its skinniest branches reached close enough to utilize. As light as he was, Nathaniel knew those branches would offer him no help.

“Lewis let you out.”

Nathaniel jumped at Morgan’s voice. “Yes. Why did you let him lock me up?”

“I don’t have a say over anything he does, Nate.” He joined the islander under the tree. “Eloise has way more pull over him than I do and she’s eight.”

“I need out of here, Morgan.” Nathaniel watched his dark eyes.

“I know.”

“Help me.”

Morgan closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay. But I’m going with you.”

Lines creased Nathaniel’s forehead. “Why?”

“I hate this place, too,” Morgan admitted. “It’s boring. We have a better chance of escaping together.”

“Fine. If I’m with you, can we just walk out?” Nathaniel pulled a leaf off the tree.

“Not anymore we can’t,” Morgan said. “I doubt any excuse would allow me to take you out of here.”

Nathaniel pursed his lips. “I bet I can think of something. What kind of tree?”

“Maple.” A smile tugged at Morgan’s lips. “Come inside and I’ll show you something.”

On the fourth floor of the narrow, brick building, Morgan pushed open a door to a library.

Nathaniel’s eyes widened at once. “Shit!” He staggered over to the nearest shelf and pulled out a book. “I’ve never seen so many books before. This is amazing.”

Morgan laughed. “You’re an interesting kid, Nate. I thought you might like a book on trees native to here.”

“I’d read anything.” He ran a hand gently over the open book in his hand and breathed in the musty scent. “My mom had a few books. Mostly she told me stories from memory.”

“Did you go to school?” Morgan searched for a nature book.

“Until I was ten.” He pulled out a different book. “What are fairy tales?”

Morgan looked over. “You never heard of fairy tales?” He abandoned his search and joined Nathaniel. “They’re stories for children, usually with a fantasy element like trolls and witches, and are supposed to teach lessons but they’re mostly just fun.” He watched the boy flip through and study the pictures. “Didn’t the island have stories like that?”

“No, ours are all true.” He glanced up. “You know, about what happens to islanders that leave. I guess fantasy was too realistic for us. What’s this one?”

Morgan looked at the picture of a woman lying in a glass coffin. “Sleeping Beauty. Only true love’s kiss could wake her.”

“What kind of lesson is that supposed to teach?” Nathaniel looked at him.

“I dunno, depends if you believe in soul mates, I guess.”

Nathaniel laughed. “I can’t die and I still couldn’t believe in that. What’s this one?”

“Little Red Riding Hood.” Morgan rested a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “That one teaches kids not to talk to strangers or stray from the correct path. She does both and gets eaten by a wolf.”

“Neat.” Nathaniel sank to the floor and began reading.

Morgan left him and continued looking for a book on trees. He dragged his finger along the book spines, eyes catching a word or two of each title. _Soul Mates_ caught his attention and he pulled the book free. Since the islanders weren’t supposed to leave the island, he wasn’t surprised Nathaniel didn’t know or believe in soul mates. It was rare to find one’s soul mate where one grew up. Traveling thousands of miles seemed to up the chances and even then, one would have to come into physical contact with the person three times for the bond to form. Some people knew at once and could easily initiate the final touches. Others might not know until the third stage. Who wanted to waste that much time on someone if they didn’t seem right? Soul mates weren’t rare but it was rare to find your match.

He found the book on trees and a few others he thought Nathaniel would like and slipped the soul mate one in between. “I’ll put these in your room for your perusal.”

Nathaniel nodded without looking up from the page.

While the redhead read late into the night and came up with a plan to escape, Morgan tossed in his bed and muttered in his sleep, repeating the same name over and over again: Ambrosia.

***

“What?” Morgan stared at Nathaniel, a spoonful of oatmeal forgotten halfway to his mouth.

“See, if the prince could climb Rapunzel’s hair to get in,” Nathaniel explained again, “then it makes sense it would work in reverse for us to get out. We could use rope. We wouldn’t have to use hair. If we could get it hooked on something on the other side of the wall… What?”

“No, Nate.” Morgan shook his head. “You’re not going to find rope here.”

“Then we grow a beanstalk—”

“Nathaniel!” Morgan let his spoon clatter against his bowl. “Fairy tales aren’t going to work, I’m sorry. Did you read anything else last night?”

“No. I have other ideas.”

“Forget it.” Morgan picked up his bowl. “Do what you want. _I_ can actually die.”

Nathaniel finished his oatmeal, pleased that phase one of his plan worked. Morgan and he were too different and escaping together would never work. But he did still need a rope.

The house offered few supplies and many rooms were empty. Nathaniel limped from room to room and stumbled upon Lewis’ office.

“Yes?” Lewis looked up as the door opened.

Thinking fast, Nathaniel asked, “I want to make something.”

“Such as?” Lewis raised an eyebrow.

“I dunno yet but I need some craft supplies.” He folded his hands together. “Please?”

“You have food and clothes,” Lewis snapped. “I’m not buying you anything else.”

“But I’m bored,” Nathaniel whined. “You can’t keep me locked up here with nothing to do. I’ll start screaming again. Especially since _I don’t know why I’m here_ ,” he stressed.

Lewis huffed. “Fine. Make a list.” He resumed writing in a ledger. “You’re here for your own safety.”

“Yeah, right.” Nathaniel hopped out. He found paper and pencil in the kitchen and thought about what he could ask for that would help him escape but not arouse suspicion. If he braided lots of yarn together, it might be strong enough. Twist some hemp or something into it…

He gave Lewis the list an hour later.

Lewis glanced over it. “You must have a weird imagination.”

“Yeah.” Nathaniel smiled.

“I’ll get your stuff tomorrow. Go.”

Nathaniel hurried out as fast as he could hobble. He returned to his room and browsed through the stack of books Morgan had left. He found the one on soul mates and figured he’d see what it was about.

A chapter was all he could take. He did not want to be stuck feeling someone else’s pain or deal with an everlasting ache if his mate died. You didn’t need a soul mate for love. Any of that business wasn’t for him anyway.

***

After Lewis gave him the bag of various strings and other random stuff Nathaniel hoped would throw off an escape plot, he went to work braiding it all together. He had no idea how long exactly to make it, though. The wall outside was taller than himself by quite a bit. Three times his height would suffice, he decided. Then it was only a matter of finding something to use as a hook. There had to be something in the kitchen that would work.

“So, you made a rope.”

Nathaniel jumped. “Shit!”

Morgan closed the bedroom door and sat next to him on the floor. “How are you going to climb that? That’ll be agony with your bad foot.”

“Upper body strength,” Nathaniel said. “I’ll add knots when it’s finished for gripping.”

“Hmm.” Morgan squeezed his bicep. “I suppose. What do you plan to do when you’re over the wall?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” His tongue poked out his mouth as he concentrated. “Just want out. I don’t do confinement.”

“You’ll be hunted down by Lewis and the General.”

Nathaniel frowned. “Yesterday you wanted to come with me. Now you’re trying to talk me out of it. There is no reason for me to stay, Morgan. I’d rather fight for my life than be stuck inside. I don’t—”

“—do confinement. I understand.” Morgan crossed his arms. “Take me with you.”

“But my plan sucks.”

“I can help you. I know the city.”

“Fine.” He could lie to Morgan when he planned to escape.

“Thank you.” Morgan looked at the stack of books he’d given Nathaniel to read. “Soul mates, huh?”

“You gave it to me.” He looked up from his rope. “It’s bullshit.”

“It’s the truth,” Morgan said, “but otherwise you’re correct.”

Nathaniel reached over and touched Morgan three times. “Oh, no, I’m in love with you now.” He pretended to swoon.

Morgan rolled his eyes. “That’s exactly what gives it a bad name.”

“I would rather choose who I fall in love with,” Nathaniel said. “Or not to fall in love with.”

“I can understand that.” He scooted closer. “When are you escaping?”

“I don’t know yet.” That wasn’t a lie since he had to find a chance to search for something to use as a hook. “Maybe in two nights.” He met Morgan’s eyes. “I need to get this finished.”

Morgan stood. “I’ll search for a hook.”

Nathaniel gritted his teeth as the door closed. Well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, he supposed if Morgan came with him. But he had his doubts that Morgan wouldn’t betray him. After all, Morgan could leave at any time, why did he need to escape? But Nathaniel figured there was more to it and he didn’t care to waste his brainpower on that.

Morgan did him one better than a kitchen tool and brought back an actual grappling hook. While that further established Nathaniel’s belief that Morgan would play him, he accepted it without question and knotted it to the rope using the sturdiest knot he knew from dock working.

“We’ll go tomorrow night,” Nathaniel said.

“Why not tonight?” questioned Morgan.

“My foot is bothering me too much,” he lied. “I’ll rest plenty tomorrow.”

It was plausible enough and Morgan agreed.

***

Barefoot and in his old shorts—the warm fancy jacket, though he liked—Nathaniel snuck downstairs around midnight and made his way out the back door. He had scoped out the backyard and knew which spot was hardest to see from the house, and threw his rope at the wall. It took three tries before his aim hit true. He tugged hard and the hook held fast. Now to hope his homemade rope would hold his weight.

Careful to hold his injured foot away from the rope to avoid jarring pain, Nathaniel pulled himself up grabbing the many knots he’d made. Almost up, he felt the rope grow taunt beneath him.

“I knew you’d leave without me,” Morgan said.

“Okay, fine. Sorry,” Nathaniel called down. “One at a time, though, please.”

Having seen how fragile the “rope” looked, Morgan obeyed and watched Nathaniel reach the top. He perched on the wall and tried to distinguish what was beyond in the dark. A few dim streetlights offered little help.

He waited for Morgan and they climbed down the other side of the wall. Lewis would know they were gone whether or not the rope and hook remained and Nathaniel didn’t want to waste time trying to get it down. They hurried through the next yard and let themselves out an unlocked gate to the street.

“Well, you’re not confined anymore,” said Morgan. “Where to?”

“I live alone.” Nathaniel limped away. “Good luck, Morgan.”

“I’ll betray you,” Morgan said.

Nathaniel stood under a streetlight, back to his fellow escapee. He held up his middle finger and continued along.

 

5

Dawn found Nathaniel huddled in a shed under some old sacks and rope. But he woke grinning, free again. The ache of hunger didn’t bother him as could do as he’d always done. Living on the streets was who he was. The city was huge. This would be easier than on the island.

Within a few hours of walking, Nathaniel had been chased by a dog, run into by a bike, yelled and cussed at by a dozen people, and barely avoided a collision with a motorized vehicle. Exhausted, hungry, and terrified, he huddled in an alley and tried to calm his pounding heart. The city was chaos and everything out to harm him.

The wafting scent of bread drew him out of the alley and he moved cautiously down the street. As he neared the bakery, he froze at the sight of the trio of young people, one in a gray beanie.

Should he go after them, he wondered? They _had_ saved him from the ship yet abandoned him injured in the strange city. While Lewis and Morgan had given him a place to live and food, yet Lewis locked him up.

Before he could decide, Clarence looked his way and made eye contact. Both froze but while Nathaniel was drawn forward, Clarence fought to keep distance between them and broke into a run.

Their companion’s speedy retreat caught Salvatore and Tai’s attention and they spotted the redhead. They hurried after their friend.

The still painful foot prevented Nathaniel from catching up and he lost sight of them after a few blocks. More confused than before, he continued along one painful step at a time, intrigued by a scent he couldn’t quite place but that gave him pleasant vibes.

He stopped at the end of the block as a huge, gray stone mansion loomed before him. The scent had grown stronger and he approached the wrought-iron gate with a mix of apprehension and excitement. His hands gripped the bars and he peered in at the manicured lawn and sculpted bushes. A brick path wandered around the grounds. Flowerbeds lay sparse as fall began but were so numerous he imagined the whole estate bloomed with color in the spring.

The gate creaked under his hands and he realized it wasn’t locked. Nathaniel slipped inside and headed for the front door of the gray mansion. He knocked and waited.

***

“That was too close,” panted Tai as the group made it home. “How did he get out?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Salvatore said. “Clarence, are you hanging in there?”

Clarence yanked at his hair and jogged in place. He could only wail, unable to control the intense whirlwind of feelings billowing inside. Did he want to punch someone, kiss them, fuck them, scream, cry, eat, he didn’t know.

“You’ll be okay soon,” Tai soothed and stroked his face.

Clarence leaned into her hand and moved closer. He groaned as he rubbed against his friend getting no satisfaction and only furthering his frustration. “Why?” he demanded, begged.

Heavy, familiar footsteps sent Salvatore and Tai to attention but Clarence was too disorganized to react.

The General eyed Clarence with a frown as the other two saluted. “Clarence,” he barked.

Clarence struggled to stay upright on quivering legs and salute the General. But the distress, the mess was growing worse, not better.

“Permission to speak, sir,” Tai said.

The General gave a curt nod.

“We’re certain we found his soul mate,” Tai said. “He’s had two touches.”

The General’s lips pressed into a thin line and he glared at the writhing boy. “Control yourself or you leave.” He turned away and disappeared down the hall.

Salvatore and Tai dragged Clarence to their bunkroom.

“Why isn’t he recovering?” Salvatore asked. “We lost the kid at least a mile back.”

“Maybe we got his scent on us from a breeze,” Tai suggested. “I’ll throw Clarence in the shower.”

Clarence could barely stand to wash. He slipped and fell beneath the spraying water. “Make it stop!” A tension seized his legs and nothing seemed to allow him to release the tightening muscles.

“I can’t, Clarence.” Tai pulled him away from the shower and wrapped him in a towel. “Deep breathes. Focus on that.”

Clarence cried instead.

***

No one answered his knock but the door was unlocked. Nathaniel slipped inside and that intoxicating scent smacked him in the face. A shiver ran through him and another until his body continued to tingle.

Whether he was actually following his nose, heart, or brain, he wasn’t sure but headed down the long hallway past numerous doors and other passages.

Footsteps echoed behind and he stopped. The noise continued and before he could turn around, a man growled, “Who are you?”

Nathaniel turned slowly to face the man as tall as Lewis but much more powerfully built. He had broad facial features and piercing eyes that crippled Nathaniel’s courage.

“I asked you a question.”

“Nathaniel,” he whispered. “Nathaniel Malone.”

“Come with me.” His deep voice echoed down the hall.

Fear made Nathaniel limp after him while his body screamed to continue after the scent. He struggled to keep up with the man’s long strides. Neither spoke until inside a high-ceilinged office lined with bookcase stuffed with books and spindly instruments.

“How did you get off the island?” asked the man. He sat in a leather armchair that groaned under his strong frame. He pointed to the chair opposite him.

Nathaniel sat and stared at his bare toes just brushing against the floor. “On a boat.” He cringed after the words slipped out knowing what a smartass comment it was.

The General pressed a finger against his lips. “Why were you on that boat?”

“I’m a thief,” he whispered.

“What did you steal?”

“Food.”

The chair squeaked as he leaned back. He rested his folded hands on his stomach. “Are you aware of your power?”

Nathaniel nodded. He kept his attention on the floor, a dark wood, and focused on a pine knot.

“Do you know who I am, son?”

Nathaniel’s eyes flickered up. “Not my father,” he whispered. A little louder, he said. “I would presume the General.”

“Yes.”

Goosebumps flooded up Nathaniel’s bare legs. “Are you going to damn me to hell?” He couldn’t look at the man’s powerful gaze and focused on tucking his hands up the sleeves of his jacket.

“No,” the General said. “Do you know why?”

Nathaniel shook his head.

“Because that is what Lewis Jenkins does.”

The redhead looked up. “Which one of you is lying?”

“Unfortunately that has to be for you to decide. No one can make you believe anything. But I’ll tell you a story, Nathaniel, and maybe that will help.” He rested his head back against the tall chair and closed his eyes for a moment. “I sent my three best agents out on a mission to your island to gather intelligence on how many residents dwelt there. As I instructed them, they got themselves arrested and put on the ship destined to remain adrift at sea. They knew they’d be rescued in a few days times or were to escape if their lives were threatened. The ship caught fire instead but they escaped and brought me the information I needed. Do you know how many people live on your island, Nathaniel?”

“No, sir.” He studied the buttons on his cuffs.

“Over ten thousand and each with a soul powerful enough to attract their mate within a few days. But they know that life is better there where they can be normal—not immortal—and not with a crucifying soul mate. To leave the island is already damning enough. There are always two sides, Nathaniel. But it’s never good versus evil. Just different beliefs on how to deal with any given situation.” He watched the slender redhead. “My agents were not instructed to save you but they have good hearts and knew you’d be left to drown for eternity on that ship. You are young and they took pity on you. But they damned you anyway, didn’t they?”

“I suppose.” Nathaniel glanced up. The piercing eyes had softened and watched him with pity and concern.

            “Your island does not teach about soul mates, I know. You are lucky but I know your life there was not an easy one.” The leather chair squeaked beneath him as he shifted. “A soul mate will break your immortal curse but it would leave you with the curse of a soul mate, their emotions, their pain, and a constant ache when you are not together. If your soul mate dies the pain gets even worse.”

“I don’t want to be in love,” Nathaniel said. “I would rather have my curse than that of another’s.”

“I understand.” He watched the youth. “I’ve been searching for a cure for both curses, soul mate and damnation. Lewis has been doing likewise. We both feel the constant pain of having lost our soul mate. He takes in those who had left their island. Houses them, feeds them but he also studies them. You are his prisoner, as I’m sure you understand.”

Nathaniel nodded.

“I ask for consent to study and run tests,” the General continued. “His methods are more passive but dangerous. I don’t want prisoners, but answers.”

“You torture,” Nathaniel murmured.

“It may hurt, yes.” The General grew grave. “But I am closer to a cure and my patients have not wished or attempted escape.”

Nathaniel tugged at his sleeves. “I don’t do well with confinement.”

“I understand.” The General leaned forward. “You wouldn’t be held against your will. But, Nathaniel, I cannot take you. Your soul mate resides here and you are torturing him.”

Nathaniel frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“My agent, Clarence, it’s why he rescued you off the ship, although he did not know the reason at the time. It’s my understanding that you’ve touched twice. The third time will break your curse and give you both the same one.”

Nathaniel’s fierce blue eyes returned to his lap. “I will leave and go back to Lewis.”

“You can find another place, Nathaniel,” the General said softly.

“No, sir, I cannot,” he mumbled. “This city is too dangerous for me. I am best confined.” He closed his eyes.

The General stood. “Wait here.”

On the third floor, he knocked at the first bunkroom.

Salvatore opened the door and saluted. Tai jumped off her bunk to do likewise but Clarence remained curled up under his blankets.

“His soul mate is in my office,” the General said and waved off formalities. “He’s prepared to leave and return to Lewis Jenkin’s home. But it means he’ll remain in the city. Clarence, what your feeling now will continue to happen. The city isn’t large enough to keep you apart and you’ll be drawn to one another constantly.”

“You want him to leave, don’t you?” Tai asked.

“The boy’s name is Nathaniel and I have nowhere to send him,” the General said. “Clarence, you would be taken care of. I would set you up with a good woman to serve.”

Clarence rolled out of his bunk and dropped to the floor. “Fine, just get him out of here.” His eyes rolled back and he slumped forward.

“Or,” Salvatore murmured, “they could connect.”

“No,” the General and Tai said at the same time.

“You lose too much,” Tai added.

“He’s already going to lose everything when he’s forced to relocate,” Salvatore pointed out. “General, is it that terrible while both are alive? Does the death pain negate everything good in having a living soul mate?”

The General’s stony expression returned. “There is no good in having a soul mate. Clarence, I’ll have your transfer complete in the morning.” He turned sharply and closed the door behind himself.

Tai and Salvatore sat down on either side of their friend and tried to comfort him.

When the General returned to his office, the door was open and Nathaniel was nowhere in sight.

 

6

The city was too big, too loud, too chaotic. Nathaniel roamed the streets on aching feet. His calloused soles were no match for miles of walking city sidewalks. Where was he even going? He didn’t know how to get back to Lewis’ prison and didn’t want to anyway. But this wasn’t the island; he couldn’t live on the streets, at least not the way he was used to. He could adapt, but how? Everything was just too much.

Return to the General’s house, his brain screamed at him. He wasn’t certain but he thought the General planned to offer him a place. But his soul mate—Clarence—complicated that. He understood now that that was the scent he’d been following. He needed to know more about soul mates. Lewis’ prison had the books he needed and he didn’t doubt Lewis would take him in. But Morgan wouldn’t be there and without someone to talk to the confinement would be a thousand times worse.

His tired feet could venture no further and Nathaniel dropped along the side of the cobbled road. The island had been simple: survive.

“Nathaniel!”

He looked up with exhausted eyes and spotted Morgan running toward him.

“I’m impressed you’re still alive,” Morgan said. “Oh, wait.” He grimaced. “Sorry.”

“I met the General,” Nathaniel said.

“Holy shit!” Morgan sat next to him. “What happened? Did you have to escape?”

“He explained some stuff to me.” Nathaniel rested his head against Morgan’s shoulder. “I am more confused than before. I don’t think he’s a bad person, Morgan. He and Lewis just have different ways. But neither can really keep me safe. Plus my soul mate is there.” He closed his eyes. “I still believe soul mates are bullshit but he could break my immortal curse.”

“Then we’ll go to him,” Morgan said. “One touch and you’ll be free.”

“You know that’s not true.” Nathaniel sighed. “I’m tired.”

“I’ll take you back to Lewis.” Morgan helped him stand. “We’re not far. He won’t be mad.”

“What about you?” Nathaniel leaned on him. “You don’t have to return.”

“I have nowhere else to go,” Morgan admitted. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“I’m sorry I betrayed you.”

“It’s okay, Nate.”

Back at the tall, narrow building, Lewis let them in and sent Nathaniel to his room. “Two days. Stay put.”

Nathaniel didn’t argue and hoped the books remained where he’d left him. Having those to read would make the isolation tolerable.

The books remained. Nathaniel crashed into bed and fell asleep.

When he woke, a plate of food sat on his nightstand. Nathaniel gobbled down the toast and fruit and drank the milk. He used the tiny bathroom that was only a toilet and sink. Rested and full, he sat on the floor and poured over the book on soul mates.

He learned little more than what the General had told him. There were no hints on how to avoid the connection other than distance. No cures to stop the longing once the connection was made.

Avoid Clarence and live forever; it was his only option.

***

“I don’t want to leave,” Clarence begged as his friends took him to the train station. “I’m happy here. I can manage the pain.”

Tai hugged him. “Trust me, we want you here but you won’t be able to function. You’ll always be looking for him.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to connect,” Clarence suggested. “Look at the General, he’s supposedly tortured by losing his mate but he functions. Nathaniel and I could connect and I could break his curse.” He tried to dodge for the exit.

Salvatore stopped him with a quick grab. “Focus, Clarence. Are you able to think of anything else? When was the last time you ate? You didn’t sleep last night.”

“I just need discipline.” His eyes pleaded with pitiful desperation.

Tai looked at Salvatore who shook his head.

A train whistle blew. Salvatore dragged Clarence toward the boarding area. “Write to us. We’ll visit you.”

Tears shimmered in Clarence’s eyes. “Please, don’t make me go.”

Tai hugged him tight. “You’ll come back to us soon. I know you will.”

Salvatore patted him on the back. “Stay strong, Clare.” He pulled Tai away and they left the train station unable to bear watching him leave.

Clarence stepped onto the train and found his seat. He wondered what would happen if he exited right now and returned home. His friends would just put him on the next train. If he didn’t make it to his new job, his new boss would contact the General and he’d be hunted down and shipped off. He _was_ a liability to his team in his lovesick state. He had to leave.

The whistle blew again and Clarence closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. Tears spilled free as the engine pulled forward and the passenger cars jolted along. A soul mate should have been someone he was rushing to be near not fleeing to avoid. He fantasized what it would be like to touch Nathaniel and make the connection but as miles grew between them, the idea and the lust lessened and he fell asleep.

***

Nathaniel was surprised when Lewis opened the door and let him out. Not knowing how long he’d slept made the two days go by much faster.

“I think we know enough about your condition,” Lewis said, “to start testing you. Follow me.”

Knowing this could help cure him of a soul mate, Nathaniel didn’t protest and followed Lewis to the basement where Morgan waited.

“This won’t be fun,” Lewis told Nathaniel. “You will lose your mind temporarily and that is what we’re trying to fix.”

He went on to explain how he believed that a soul mate could be overcome by force of will. That if the mind could overpower the biological urges, it could break the connection for good.

“Eloise was able to procure a shirt with Clarence’s scent,” Lewis continued. “That will set you off. You need to fight for control.” He pointed to a nearby table inside a small glass room where there were a simple puzzle, easy word scrambles, and a sheet of basic addition problems. “While your brain is muddled, I want you to attempt these. The goal is to gain control of your brain once more.”

Nathaniel looked at the effortless activities with a creased brow. How badly was he going to lose control of himself?

“Are you ready?” Lewis asked and opened the door to the exam room.

“I suppose.” Nathaniel tore his gaze from the puzzles. “What exactly will happen?”

“Everyone is different.” Lewis closed the door and picked up a small box. He fiddled with the combination lock. Once unlocked, he handed it to Morgan who pulled out a plastic bag and opened it.

Already a tingling ran through Nathaniel’s body as he caught a whiff of Clarence’s scent. _This is silly_ , he thought. He wasn’t an animal.

But when Morgan opened the bag and held it through an opening in one of the glass walls, all common sense left and he turned into a raging ball of hormones.

“Try to control yourself,” Lewis told him and made notes in a journal. “Work on the puzzles.” He watched the shaking youth as he stomped his feet and pressed into the glass wall closest to Clarence’s shirt.

“Nathaniel, you can fight this.” Lewis tapped on the glass

Instead, the youth reached through the slot in an attempt to grab the shirt.

Morgan quickly jumped out of reach, glad of the barrier between them.

Lewis banged on the glass. “Puzzles, Nathaniel. At least try.” He scribbled in his journal.

It took every ounce of willpower just to move a finger away from the glass. Nathaniel panted and licked at the glass. He pushed himself back and fell against the table. His legs trembled as the muscles tightened. His body screamed for release.

“Nathaniel, focus,” Lewis said and knocked on the glass some more. “Pick up the marker.”

Nathaniel stared at the blue marker. He picked it up but had no thought process on how to remove the cap.

Lewis cussed at himself over the unintended obstacle. He hadn’t wanted to give Nathaniel anything too sharp and risk injury in his volatile state. “Nate, Nate.” He banged on the glass. “Try the puzzle instead.”

The marker clattered to the floor at once. Nathaniel stared at the simple shape puzzle. But a fresh whiff of Clarence’s shirt caught his attention and he slammed himself against the glass wall.

“Nathaniel, focus.” Lewis moved to stand before the glass He moved his face close to where the boy’s was pressed into the wall. “Puzzle. Try.” He made a note of how dilated the youth’s eyes were, almost no blue visible.

Another mental struggle ensued but Nathaniel managed to grab the circle puzzle piece and proceeded to bang it into every slot available like an angry toddler.

Lewis turned to Morgan. “Put the shirt away.”

Morgan obeyed and locked it away in the lead-lined box. It was the only thing Lewis had discovered that completely blocked the scent. Using that theory, he had tried lead-lined bracelets and other items on patients but it only burned the soul mates and did nothing to block the connection. Plus there had been the risk of lead poisoning from long-term use of wearing one of the items but the potential benefits outweighed the health risks to him.

With the source locked away, Nathaniel came down a little but the scent lingered in the room enough to agitate him.

Morgan turned on a fan and Lewis gave it a few minutes before he let Nathaniel out of the glass box. At once, he dragged the boy into an adjacent room and stood him under a shower fully clothed.

The high-pressure cold spray made Nathaniel wince but his pupils slowly shrunk back to normal size.

“For the first time, it wasn’t horrible,” Lewis said.

“I feel sick,” Nathaniel mumbled.

“I understand.” He also knew the sickness could feel a thousand times worse if one’s soul mate died. He’d lost many years of his life to the illness after his wife’s passing. He handed Nathaniel a robe. “Get out of the wet clothes. I’ll help you unwind.”

Nathaniel peeled off his wet clothes while Lewis showered to remove any trace of Clarence’s scent before they left the basement.

In the second floor bathroom, Lewis filled the tub with hot water and bubbles. “The heat will help,” he assured. “Do you like tea?”

“Not really,” Nathaniel said in a raspy voice and realized how raw his throat was and that tea was probably a good idea. “Maybe with lots of honey.”

Lewis left the bathroom to make tea and let Nathaniel get in the tub. While the water boiled on the stovetop, he changed out of the robe. When he returned to the kitchen, Morgan stood in the pantry browsing for a snack.

“Did that freak you out?” Lewis asked.

Morgan shrugged. “I think I was prepared enough. I have my doubts that it could work, though. Nathaniel doesn’t have control of himself.”

“Yet,” Lewis insisted. “That’s what this is about. Teaching him to gain control. The only problem is not having more of Clarence’s scent. It won’t stay strong on that shirt for long.”

“You need Clarence,” Morgan said.

The teakettle whistled and Lewis turned off the stovetop. “Yes, but it would hardly be humane to keep them in close contact. Plus, if he’s nearby, I can’t control when Nathaniel is exposed. He’d exhaust himself within a few days.”

“Well, what’s the contact radius?” Morgan asked. “Keep him just outside of that.”

Lewis frowned. “You’re pushing into experimentation that I’m not comfortable with.”

“Nathaniel is already your prisoner. How would keeping Clarence somewhere else be any different?”

The lines deepened across his forehead. “Nate is not a prisoner.”

“Then why did he have to escape?” Morgan watched him. “I bet I can get you Clarence. You want to be the one to find the cure before the General, don’t you?”

Lewis picked at his afro. “Yes, but… The General uses electric shocks and other inhumane methods. I won’t sink to his level.”

“Lewis.” Morgan touched his arm. “You aren’t but you need Clarence to continue the experiment. I’ll locate him; you just find a place to keep him. I’ll stay there and make sure he’s treated humanely. I’m sure he’ll willingly volunteer.”

“If he volunteers,” Lewis said. “Only if he volunteers.”

“Yes, sir.”

 

7

The train came to a stop and Clarence hurried out of his seat. He grabbed his bag and jumped off as soon as the door to his car opened. It was much warmer here and he squinted in the fierce sunlight. He took a deep breath and a sense of freedom filled his lungs. He didn’t need treatment; the distance was an effective enough cure.

But just as fast, his mood plunged and a desperate longing broke his heart. He had to sit down as his legs lost all will to hold him upright. Distance wasn’t a cure. Distance caused depression. It made sense, he thought, soul mates needed to be together. Any moment apart once the second connection was made was meant to be torture to force them together.

It took several minutes before he could compel himself to stand and walk away from the train station. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket that had a crude map and an address for his new home.

The new place had a much cheerier look than the General’s gray stone mansion. This place was beige stucco with a red roof. The grounds were less expansive and mostly rock and cacti. The front gate was open and he walked up the short driveway to the covered entrance and rang the doorbell.

A young woman answered the door. “You must be Clarence.” She pushed back her dark curly hair. “I’m Ambrosia, come inside.”

Clarence followed her into the cool, dimly lit house and to his new bunkroom.

“Your partners are training,” she said. “You can get settled. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Thanks.” Clarence set his bag on the floor and looked out the window at a tall palm tree. The sky held only deep blue, as perfect as the blue of Nathaniel’s eyes. He dug his nails into the palm of his hand. He’d give anything to be back home.

Leaving his bag packed, Clarence found his way to the kitchen. The house seemed too quiet and he realized he had no idea how many agents lived here. The General’s place housed thirty-six, twelve teams of three.

Ambrosia stood at the counter cutting up vegetables.

“May I make a phone call?” Clarence asked. “I want to let my friends know I made it.”

“Of course.” Ambrosia pointed to a study off the kitchen.

Clarence made the call and already teared up at the voice of the General’s bookkeeper. As soon as Tai said hello, Clarence broke down sobbing. “I want to come home.”

“I know, Clare,” Tai attempted to soothe as her own voice cracked. “We’re going to get you back, I promise. The General will find a cure.”

“I-I-please. Ev-everything—everything hurts, Tai.” He hung up unable to stand the pain of hearing his friend coupled with the agony of his almost-connected soul mate being a thousand miles away.

He picked at his dinner that night despite it being much better than the food he was used to at the General’s. His new bunkmates didn’t speak to him and only Ambrosia and her husband talked and tried to get the other’s to open up with no success. When the young couple’s baby began to cry, everyone took that as permission to abandon the table and flee to different corners of the house.

Clarence found his way to his room and curled up on his bottom bunk. He’d grown up being considered a freak for reasons he never could discern. His parents had neglected him over his better siblings and disowned him as soon as they could. When he found his way to the General, he hadn’t expected much—a place to sleep and food to eat. Maybe some misfits worse off than himself. Friends had been unexpected and what he’d felt was missing in his life finally fulfilled. Now, he was back to life as an outcast and this time it was worse as he had to deal with the chronic ache in his chest of losing both his best friends and his soul mate.

***

Ambrosia took pity on him and at least made him feel welcome. “We’re a small group,” she told him. “The others will warm up to you.” She carried the baby on her hip as she moved about the cramped office. “You’ll want to familiarize yourself with the city.” She handed him a stack of maps. “Your partners will appreciate it.”

Clarence held back a sigh and longed for his city where he knew every alley and shortcut. “What kind of missions will I have?”

“Reconnaissance mostly.” She bounced her daughter, AJ

“I can do more,” he pleaded at once. His old team had always been active, the leads, not merely the scouts.

“Not with your status,” she said. She watched the sad, freckled face. “I’m sorry, Clarence. I know it’s not fair. But you have to understand the risk—”

Clarence cut her off. “Because he’s an islander. My soul mate is a freak.”

“Clarence…” Ambrosia touched his arm. “Many scientists are working on a cure and finally making progress. You won’t have to live like this for long.”

“Is your husband your soul mate?” Clarence asked to change the topic from himself.

“No.” Ambrosia smiled at her daughter. “But I love him.” She looked at Clarence. “We chose each other. Our relationship is one of respect and consent. I understand your pain. I wouldn’t want a soul mate either.”

“Do you ever worry you will find yours?” A faint smile touched his lips as AJ reached out to him.

“I suppose it’s always in the back of my mind.” She handed the baby to Clarence as AJ tried to escape. “Jacques, my husband, and I are careful about touching other people. You have a soul mate so you’re safe to be around. We blood test new recruits and check that we don’t react to their scent.”

Clarence tickled the baby but listened intently to Ambrosia.

“It sucks,” she continued, “but it’s worth it because we love what we have. Especially this little rugrat.” She grabbed her baby’s toes and kissed them. The baby laughed.

After studying the maps all day, Jacques and Ambrosia took him out in the evening and let him navigate to a nearby park and then back home. While most of his attention was on not getting lost, he couldn’t help but admire the couple as they held hands and unconsciously gave any person on the street a wide berth. They were as devoted to avoiding their soul mate as some were to finding theirs. He believed that this couple was far happier. It made him wish to be home even more. Back with his friends and working more actively to find a cure.

There had to be a cure.

8

The next two days Nathaniel made no progress other than to successfully put the triangle puzzle piece into the correct spot. But by then, the shirt had lost its potency and Lewis didn’t think the puzzle piece was anything more than coincidence.

“Have you located Clarence?” Lewis asked Morgan after he had put Nathaniel to bed since the sessions drained him.

“I believe so,” Morgan said. “You’ll need to buy me a train ticket.”

“Fine.” Lewis stopped a yawn. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worked so hard other than researching via books. It had been at least a year since he’d had a live subject to study. “He should come back willingly enough with you. But he has to—”

“Consent,” Morgan finished. “Your lack of faith is disturbing, Lewis.”

“I lost my soul mate, Morgan.” He glared at his young protégé. “I have little reason to trust.”

“Then we shall figure out how to break the curse.” He headed upstairs to his room to pack.

Lewis procured the train ticket for the next night. They didn’t tell Nathaniel the plan and Lewis kept the boy locked in his room.

 

The rocking, clattering train soothed Morgan to sleep, and in what seemed like no time at all, the engine pulled through the station and stopped with a jolt.

Morgan stretched and got off. The hot air of the desert made him frown and he unbuttoned the collar of his long-sleeve shirt.

Sweating and dying of thirst, Morgan found the stucco house, the address he’d bribed off one of the General’s less satisfied agents in return for cash he stole from Lewis. It was a slippery slope from bribery to kidnapping but he found it exhilarating. He rang the doorbell and a pretty, young woman answered.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“I’m looking for Clarence,” Morgan said and gave a tragic story about their uncle who’d died… tragically.

“Just a moment,” she said. “Come inside out of the heat.”

Morgan followed her inside and relished the cool interior.

The woman returned within a few minutes. “Clarence is finishing up training. Come into the kitchen and I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“That would be lovely,” Morgan said. “Thank you.”  He looked around the house, so desert-y, he thought with its beige walls and rounded frames. He longed for the stone and deadly corners of the eastern city. And the cool fall air.

“Here you go.” The woman handed him a glass.

While she had trained herself to avoid unwanted contact, such a thing never occurred to Morgan and he let his hand touch hers as she jerked back.

The glass slipped from Morgan’s hand and shattered on the floor in a puddle of water and ice. The two stared at each other and stepped closer.

“What’s your name?” Morgan whispered. His heart pounded in his chest and he was certain the room was spinning.

“Ambrosia.” She reached toward him.

Their fingertips stopped centimeters apart and it was then that Morgan noticed the wedding band on her finger. It wasn’t uncommon for people to not bother looking for their soul mate and marry whom they thought they loved. Morgan had never expected to encounter the scenario, especially not firsthand. He grasped Ambrosia’s hand.

Her eyes closed and he could see her body shaking. Morgan leaned closer and pressed his forehead against hers. “When I let go, you either have to run or accept,” he whispered. He knew he wasn’t prepared to resist third contact and after seeing how Nathaniel acted by the mere scent of his soul mate after second contact, Morgan did not want to deal with that.

In response, Ambrosia pressed her lips against his.

Morgan closed his eyes and relished this last bit of sanity before they connected. Even knowing how much Lewis hated the idea of soul mates and the supposed amount he suffered for having lost his; for all the pain Nathaniel was going through since second contact; Morgan wouldn’t run. This was his _soul mate_.

He pushed Ambrosia back and as soon as they stopped touching, the hunger overpowered them and they were back in each other’s arms. A shiver ran through Morgan and continued, intensifying until his whole body tingled.

The moment couldn’t be broken, not even by Clarence coming in from the pool and shouting at them, nor by him trying to pry them apart.

“You’re married, Ambrosia!” Clarence shouted. “You have a child!”

Neither heard him. Only each other mattered anymore.

Clarence wanted to cry. Ambrosia and Jacques were so perfect for each other and worked so hard for their union and now this jackass—this soul mate—destroyed everything. From the looks of it, they’d already made third contact and there was nothing he could do. Not that life was great after second contact but he was certain Ambrosia could have fought it with Jacques. Now… Now she was this young man’s unless a cure could be found. There had to be a cure.

Jacques cried when he came home to discover the mess and realized his life had shattered into a million pieces. “Ambrosia, please,” he begged.

But she couldn’t hear him. Nothing besides Morgan mattered to her.

Jacques took his daughter and left the house.

Clarence ran after him. “Don’t do anything drastic,” he commanded the man. “We’ll find a cure. You’ll get Ambrosia back.”

Swollen, red eyes stared at him. “I don’t think losing a soul mate could hurt worse than this. She’s not coming back, Clarence.” He handed over his daughter.

“Jacques, please.” He clutched AJ and grabbed the broken husband with his free hand. “The General is close to a cure. This can all end.”

“I’d rather my life end,” Jacques said flatly, as his whole body drooped.

“Your baby needs you.” AJ wailed in Clarence’s arms and struggled to grab her dad. Needing both hands to keep from dropping the child, Clarence let go of Jacques. “Ambrosia can’t take care of her right now, you know that.”

The baby cried louder and seemed to pull Jacques out of his stupor.

“You’re right,” he mumbled. He took his sobbing child. “But what do I do, Clarence?”

“Come back east with me,” Clarence said and gripped his shoulder. “The General will make this right.”

“But your soul mate—”

“I’ll have to make do.” His grip weakened at the thought of the agony of being close to Nathaniel. But what he witnessed today further cemented his need for a cure. He would consent to becoming a test subject. “I’ll manage,” he added with more surety.

 

9

“Where’s Morgan?” Nathaniel asked after Lewis had to let him out after five days. The boy had literally begun to bounce off the walls.

“A mission,” Lewis said. “Eat your breakfast.”

“Can I go outside?” Nathaniel kneeled on his chair.

“No, it’s raining.”

“That doesn’t bother me.”

Lewis rubbed his forehead. “Fine.”

The chair clattered to the floor as Nathaniel jumped off and ran outside.

He was back in the house fifteen minutes later soaked to the skin and covered in mud.

“How?” Lewis questioned in disbelief.

“I fell,” Nathaniel said. “I’ll go shower.”

“You’re not tracking mud all over the house. Stay.” Lewis found some towels and waited for Nathaniel to peel himself out of the muddy clothes. He found himself thankful he’d only had a daughter. Boys were too messy.

“When will Morgan be back?” Nathaniel wrapped one towel around his waist and another snug over his shoulders as he shivered.

“I don’t know.” He didn’t even want to admit it to himself but he was beginning to worry. He hadn’t expected Morgan to contact him but he had expected him to be back by now. Maybe Clarence was resisting, it was the only logical option for the delay. “Do you miss him?”

Nathaniel shrugged. “If _you_ would talk to me, maybe I wouldn’t be so lonely.”

Lewis pursed his lips. “Hmph. Go shower and then we’ll work on some stuff.”

In the basement, Lewis put Nathaniel in the glass box and pumped in a synthetic scent he’d crafted from Clarence’s. It wouldn’t have the same hormones that would excite Nathaniel but he thought it would make a decent starter to help the youth learn to focus.

The simple puzzles were easy as Nathaniel had control of his basic facilities. As Lewis gave him harder puzzles, though, he had to push deeper and work around the part of his mind affected by the scent. He pressed his face against the glass instead.

“Work on the puzzles, Nate,” Lewis reminded him.

Nathaniel licked the glass.

“Puzzles.” He knocked his fist where the youth’s nose was on the other side. “Fight it. You’re not making any progress.” He tugged at his curly hair. Of all the islanders he could have gotten to test, this inattentive teen was who he’d been stuck with. He should have stuck to his guns and kicked him out. Should have let the damn kid run away and stay away.

Yet…

He was kind of endearing.

“Nate, try the puzzles.” He tapped at the glass. “Just a few more minutes.”

Nathaniel dragged himself over to the table and picked up the colored cube. He struggled to figure out how to move the sides to line up the colors.

“Focus,” Lewis whispered. He watched the boys pupils shrink and he looked at the machine pumping in the scent. No, the concentration inside should have remained the same. He looked back at the youth and saw him moving the pieces, lining up the colors. “Good boy,” he breathed.

“I did it!” Nathaniel said.

A smile spread across Lewis’ face. “Excellent!”

Nathaniel crashed to the floor a second later.

“Shit!” Lewis shut off the machine and dragged the youth out of the glass box. He knew he should have waited until Morgan returned before experimenting. At least it was another person in the room in case of a crisis. He didn’t like his daughter to help and she was at school anyway. “Nathaniel!” He peeled back the kid’s eyelids. The pupils had dilated to the point of only leaving a tiny ring of blue. His breathing was fast and shallow. Lewis scooped up the boy and carried him outside in hope that fresh air would help.

He racked his brain for the cause. He’d used synthetic scents before without a problem. Had Nathaniel been exposed too long? No, he’d only been in the box twenty minutes. He checked the youth’s pupils again and discovered no change and felt his body growing tense. Perhaps Morgan had succeeded and Clarence was nearby. The combination of synthetic scent and Clarence’s nearness could have been too great. If Clarence was nearby, then he had to get Nathaniel away.

In the shed was the old motor vehicle that he hadn’t driven in years. Lewis put Nathaniel in the back seat and found the key in the glove box. The vehicle sputtered and choked itself to life as Lewis twisted the crank in the front.

He had to get Eloise first and drove the rattling jalopy down the block to her school. Then he drove away from the city, scaring himself as he went over thirty miles per hour, and hoped it was in the opposite direction of Clarence. He instructed Eloise to check Nathaniel’s eyes and report to him when the pupils weren’t as huge.

“His eyes aren’t so black anymore,” said Eloise, a bone and nerve-rattling twenty minutes later.

Lewis’ hands ached from clutching the steering wheel. “Good. Thank you.” It was especially good when he realized the vehicle didn’t have much fuel left. He pulled over and turned off the vehicle. It sputtered and puffed out a cloud of smoke from the exhaust. Worthless piece of metal, he thought.

He and Eloise switched seats and Lewis checked the boy’s vitals. His pupils remained dilated but not abnormally so and his breathing was regular. Curled up in the back seat, Lewis was reminded of just how small the boy was, how young he was. The burden of a soul mate shouldn’t be placed on anyone, especially not a child, he thought. Nathaniel needed to grow up and make his own choices about life and love, not have his emotions and hormones thrown in every direction against his will.

Lewis stroked back the messy red hair. “Nate, can you hear me?”

Nathaniel nodded.

“Good. I’m going to get you somewhere safe.” He looked out the windshield for anywhere that might offer help in getting the automobile going again or, preferred, drive them elsewhere. But they’d left the city and houses were few and far between.

“Daddy.” Eloise pointed out the window at the nearest farmhouse. “I think that’s where my Kindergarten teacher lives. Remember we went there to pick pumpkins?”

He remembered too well, Lewis thought. His soul mate had died and while the other parents helped their child pick out a pumpkin, he stayed in the farmhouse and drank hard cider to calm his shattered nerves and numb his brain. Probably not the best impression but the teacher and her husband had seemed understanding and made sure Eloise had fun. He hoped they’d be willing to help.

Doubtful that Nathaniel had the energy to walk; Lewis dragged him out of the backseat and hoisted him on his back. “Come on, Eloise.”

The girl scooted out of the automobile and followed alongside her dad.

The farmhouse seemed to get further away as they walked and Lewis was glad Nathaniel didn’t weigh much.

At last, Eloise opened the gate in the picket fence and hopped up the stairs and knocked on the door.

Her old Kindergarten teacher answered it with a cheery smile. “Well, hello, Eloise. This is a surprise.”

“Daddy needs your help,” Eloise said and pointed to her father coming through the yard with a limp boy on his back.

“Goodness!” Mrs. Conway clutched a hand against her chest. “What happened?”

“It’s a soul mate thing,” Lewis said and was relieved to see her understanding nod, as he didn’t have the breath to explain further.

“Come inside.” Mrs. Conway stepped aside and indicated to the sofa.

Lewis let Nathaniel slide off his back and made sure he was comfortable. “I need to get back to the city,” he told the woman. “My associate must be back and I need to get things arranged with him. Is your husband home?”

“He’s in the garden.” Mrs. Conway disappeared down a hallway to the back door to call for him.

While Eloise studied Mrs. Conway’s many cat figurines, Lewis paced before the sofa. If Clarence had consented to return, then he’d be able to study both boys. He assumed since Clarence was an agent for the General, he’d have a little more maturity and control to make progress on breaking the connection. Nonetheless, he’d have a constant supply of both boy’s scent to use on testing them.

Mr. Conway came into the front room with his wife, his non-soul mate. “Do you want me to look at your vehicle?” he asked.

“I’d appreciate a ride right now,” Lewis said. “Perhaps you could tow it back here and look at it whenever you have a moment.”

“That’s fine.” Mr. Conway rinsed up at the basin. “I’m sure a tune-up is all it needs.”

Lewis watched his daughter as he tried to figure out what to do with her while he tracked down Morgan.

“Eloise can stay,” Mrs. Conway said as if reading his mind. “My husband can bring both of them back tonight when you have things settled.”

“Thanks.” Lewis knelt next to the sofa. “Nate,” he whispered. “Stay here and rest for a few hours. Everything will be fine.”

Nathaniel gave a soft whimper that sounded a lot like “dad.”

 _Don’t do this to me, kid_ , Lewis thought. He patted the boy’s cheek and stood. “Eloise, mind your manners.”

Eloise drew her hand back from petting a porcelain cat. “Yes, Daddy.”

Lewis followed Mr. Conway outside to the shed.

“Where should I drop you off?” He cranked up the vehicle.

Lewis gritted his teeth about getting inside. “My house is fine.” He hoped Morgan would be waiting there after stashing Clarence further away.

Mr. Conway had no problem driving much faster and soon dropped off Lewis. He promised to get Lewis’ vehicle back to his farm and take look at it.

“No rush,” Lewis assured. He thanked Mr. Conway and headed up the front steps. He called out to Morgan as he walked inside but received no response.

“Morgan?” he shouted again.

Nothing.

With a groan, he left the house and prepared to walk the several miles to his other building where he’d planned Clarence to stay and hoped Morgan would be there, too.

 

10

His muscles relaxed as he walked through the iron gates of the General’s mansion. Clarence sucked in a deep breath of the damp air and would have gladly kissed the ground if Jacques and his daughter weren’t with him.

Inside the musty, half-lit stone building, Clarence led the way through the halls to the huge door of the General’s office. He knocked and waited.

“Enter.”

Clarence pushed open the heavy door and for the first time wondered if he’d get in trouble for returning. The General always looked imposing and Clarence suddenly felt very insignificant to see the frown on the General’s face directed at him.

“I had to come back,” Clarence rushed out. “We need your help.” He indicated to Jacques and AJ. “His wife found her soul mate and—and it’s not right.” He hunched himself small under the furious gaze.

“You were safe, Clarence,” bellowed the General. “This is not the place for you anymore.”

“I need to be at home!” Clarence half-shouted. “I need my friends.”

The General let out a deep breath. “Go to them.”

Clarence scurried out of the room. He ran down the familiar halls and threw open the door to his bunkroom.

Tai and Salvatore stared at him.

“Clarence!” Tai recovered first and jumped off her bunk. She crushed her friend in a hug. “You’re back! We missed you so much.”

Salvatore slid off his bed and patted Clarence on the back. “What happened?”

“Horrible things.” Clarence clung to his friends. “I don’t know where to start.” He leaned back into Salvatore’ secure embrace and found the courage to voice his gnawing fear. “I think I’m in danger.”

Tai pressed a hand against her lips. “Clarence,” she whispered but couldn’t get anything else out.

“Why do you think that?” Salvatore asked. He tugged at his hat and looked at Tai.

“That guy we’ve seen with my soul mate,” Clarence said, “he came to get me. He found his own soul mate instead, though.”

Tai dug her nails into Clarence’s arms. “Do you think he wanted to bring you back to force you and Nathaniel together?”

Clarence swallowed. “That’s my thought. But he’s distracted now.” He stared at his friends with wide, terrified eyes. “Seeing them connect was horrible. They forgot about everything they loved, forgot who they were. I don’t want that.”

“I know,” Tai soothed. “It won’t happen.”

“Ambrosia completely forgot about her husband and daughter.” Clarence sniffled. “I brought them back with me. Jacques’ crushed. They tried so hard to ensure this wouldn’t happen because they love each other so much. I hate all of this!”

Salvatore patted his back. “You’re back with us. We’ll take care of you.”

“Do you feel okay now?” Tai asked. “No connection?”

“Nothing,” Clarence said. “Just the usual ache.” He yawned. “I still have my bunk, right?”

“Of course.” Tai squeezed him tight for a moment.

Clarence snuggled into his bottom bunk and breathed in the familiar scents. He kicked off his shoes and hugged his pillow tight. He fell asleep within a few minutes.

But within an hour, Tai shook him awake. “The General wants to see you.”

Clarence mumbled a sleepy acknowledgment and rubbed his eyes. With a yawn, he dragged himself up and stumbled as he found his feet. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and cringed at the tangled mess of his hair and pale, exhausted face. His clothes were all rumpled and wrinkled and added to his disheveled look.

“I should change.” He fought another yawn and picked at the crust in the corners of his eyes.

“Be quick.” Tai tugged at her ear. “You know the General hates to wait.”

Clarence found a knee-length black skirt and a gray sweater from his portion of the wardrobe. “I know.” He changed as fast as his tired body could move. He struggled to untangle the ribbon from his curls and could have cried if Tai didn’t come to his rescue and get it out. She managed to make the curly mess look okay in a ponytail.

Boots shoved on, Clarence ran out of the room and to the General’s office. He knocked on the huge door.

“Enter.”

Clarence tripped over his untied shoelaces as he walked in but managed to keep his feet.

The General pointed to the chair opposite his but didn’t wait for the agent to sit before he asked, “Do you consent to me experimenting on you?”

Clarence stumbled into the chair. “Yes.”

“Come with me.” The General rose to his imposing height. He led the way to a door at the back of his office and down a set of steep stairs to the basement.

Clarence stared around at the wires hanging from the ceiling and the long table filled with strange and painful-looking gadgets. He hugged himself against the damp chill and tried not to breathe in the musty scent too deeply.

“Take off your shirt,” the General said. He pointed to a narrow chair with many leather straps. “Sit.”

Fear of the pain had led Clarence to resist being experimented on before. His heart pounded and he shivered with cold and dread. He still feared the pain but there was too much at stake now and he had the chance—albeit still slim—to offer a cure.

Goosebumps flooded his arms as he pulled off his sweater. He set it on the nearest table and winced at the sight of a sharp blade. Taking deep, slow breaths, Clarence sat in the narrow chair.

“How much will this hurt?” he asked in a choked whisper.

The General didn’t answer as he tightened leather straps around Clarence’s wrists. He secured another strap across his hips but left his ankles free. From a machine full of knobs, switches, and bits of wire sticking out, he extracted two discs and stuck them to Clarence’s chest. The machine beeped as it picked up his accelerated heart rate.

“I’m scared,” Clarence choked out. His shaking hands gripped the armrests he was strapped to.

The General touched his cheek. “You’re very brave, Clarence.” He moved behind the chair and flipped some switches on the machine. “Take a deep breath.”

Clarence obeyed and a tingling sensation ran through his body. It soon intensified but not with pain, rather a crawling sensation as if thousands of tiny bugs moved beneath his skin. He shifted in his seat, desperate to rub away the buggy feeling as every inch of him itched and prickled.

With his legs unrestrained, he rubbed his feet against the floor and used his boots to attempt to scratch further. But he couldn’t reach the top of his head where the worst of the crawling tingles developed.

“Focus away from the discomfort,” the General commanded as he watched the young man writhe in the chair and strain at the restraints. “You need to overcome what isn’t real. Focus.”

What was there to focus on? Clarence thought and tried to pay attention to his breathing. A second later, his focus turned to the itchy movement across his stomach. He was certain something bit his hip and his legs exploded with more tickling discomfort.

Pinpricks of pain hit everywhere and made him spasm in distress. But still, the pain wasn’t bad but the thought that he was covered in bugs proved far worse. He continued to squirm in the chair and attack whatever he could reach with his feet.

“Focus, Clarence.” The General pinned the youth’s legs down and strapped him in further. “You’re in your own head now and making it worse for yourself. Get out of your headspace.”

 _How?_ He wondered but couldn’t find the ability to ask. A cold shiver flooded his legs and stabs of pain hit his inner thighs. He needed to scratch and make the sensation go away. Then he could focus. But there was no reprieve. Only the sensation of hundreds of insects crawling under his skin.

“Make it stop!” he shouted.

The General flipped off the machine.

Clarence slumped down and closed his eyes. He still felt like bugs crawled all over him but it was significantly less.

The General unbuckled the straps and allowed the youth to scratch away all his discomfort. “This was proven less traumatic than nerve pain,” he said. “But we can try—”

“No.” Clarence rubbed vigorously at his head. “What am I supposed to focus on? I don’t think I understand enough to help.”

“Focus on anything that interests you,” the General said. “The goal is to be in control of your mind and body. When you can feel only what you want to feel, you can overcome your soul mate’s control and break the connection.”

“Has anyone ever managed this?” Clarence rubbed at the goosebumps pimpling his arms.

“No.”

“Then how am I supposed to?” he questioned and stared at the General.

The General rubbed Clarence’s still itchy head. “Because you understand. You’ve grown up in a society that has begun to talk about consent and if soul mates are truly a good thing. You want to live your own life. You want your life to be your own. You have the desire to overcome this. Once it is known that the connection can be broken, more will follow.”

“But not if the treatment is this horrible,” Clarence said. He looked up at the General.

“Are you giving up then?”

Head down, Clarence whispered, “No.”

“Then there is hope.”

Clarence closed his eyes. “I’m ready to try again.” He didn’t want to feel like insects were crawling all over him but he didn’t want to lose control of himself to Nathaniel’s presence and be forever bound to a person he had not chosen. He knew this was only the first step and being subjected to Nathaniel or his scent would be even more difficult. But if he could overcome it all… If he could be his own person… Everyone deserved that.

 

11

The third-floor apartment was empty. Lewis stared around the minimally furnished room with a frown. Had Morgan not brought Clarence back? If not then what had Nathaniel reacted to? He may have hated his automobile and thought it too advanced but he bemoaned the lack of communication technology.

Maybe Morgan had gone back to the house but Lewis didn’t want to walk all the way back and then wonder if Morgan hadn’t returned to the apartment and assume they kept missing each other. If Clarence was back but not in Morgan’s care, he’d be with the General. Lewis would go there.

As he walked, his nose caught the lingering scent of baking bread from a nearby bakery. Vanilla and lavender had been what he associated his soul mate’s scent with. Nothing could have ever been more enticing. It wasn’t just a smell but a taste, a sound, a touch all at once. He’d give anything to feel that again. But he had met his wife when he was twenty-nine, plenty established in who he was and he’d been looking for a wife, soul mate or not. Even so, connecting had thrown him for a loop. Everything that had been a huge part of him before—science, the violin, education—meant nothing after connecting with Patsy. All he wanted was to be in her presence. However, even enthralled by his soul mate he’d often wondered what could have been. He’d made important discoveries as a scientist, written a book. He could have done more if he’d never found his soul mate. He could have still been happy single or with another woman of his choice.

When Patsy died, the pain had been immense, even more consuming than her constant distraction as his soul mate. There wasn’t life after separation. He knew many who committed suicide after their soul mate died. Because he’d studied the effects prior to connecting and how it might be overcome, he was able slowly to put himself back together. A little bit of focus brought a little more until one day a hunger hit him and he ventured down to his basement lab. He found his old research and applied it to himself. The ache would always remain and if he caught a whiff of the scent he associated with her, it would still cripple him but he was his own person again. As it should be.

Darkness had settled and few streetlights lit by the time Lewis stood in front of the gates to the General’s mansion. The gate creaked open at a gentle push.

After knocking on the front door, Lewis waited on the dark porch and hugged himself against the fall chill. As he started to shiver, the door opened.

“Yes?”

“I need to speak to the General,” Lewis told the kid. The boy was as small as Nathaniel. Much too young to become an agent but if his parents were soul mates there was a good chance neither worked nor cared about the child.

The kid beckoned him inside and ran off.

Lewis hunched his shoulders at the chilly interior and tucked his hands under his armpits.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the flickering hallway and a huge shadow proceeded the tall man. “Yes?” the General demanded.

Lewis bowed his head. “Clarence. Is he here?”

The General crossed his arms. “What’s your interest in him?”

“His soul mate is in my care.” Lewis glanced up but couldn’t see the man’s face in the shadows of the mansion.

The General let out a deep sigh. “I should have known you’d be mixed up in this, too. I’m sorry, Lewis.”

Lewis squared his shoulders. “I don’t want your pity. I’ve moved on.”

“You will always hurt.”

“So will you,” Lewis snapped. “And far worse I would imagine since you’ve been less able to overcome the temptation. My soul mate died, Ulysses. Yours, not so much.”

The General’s lip curled at the younger man. “He’s dead, Lewis.”

“As dead as Nathaniel would be if he died. Wouldn’t you like to end all this?”

The General ignored the reminder that his husband was an immortal islander. “What do you want with Clarence?”

With a sigh, Lewis said, “I just need his scent.”

A dry chuckle escaped the General. “That is still your go-to plan?”

“It’s better than hurting the person.”

“No one uses electric shocks anymore, Lewis.” The General stepped away. “If you left your basement once in a while, perhaps you’d know that. I won’t give you Clarence. Goodnight.” He walked away and faded into the dark hallway.

“Why don’t you want a cure?” Lewis shouted. “We have an islander who hasn’t died with a known soulmate. This is what we’ve both been searching for. We have a chance, Ulysses!”

The tap of shoes neared but it wasn’t the General. A young agent shoved Lewis out the front door and slammed it with a clang.

An icy drizzle peppered Lewis’ face as he tried to think of a plan. But his brain was fried and an annoyed confusion over what happened to Morgan filled his thoughts. He didn’t know what to do next. It was like losing his soul mate all over again.

***

Morgan stroked Ambrosia’s hand as they sat together for breakfast. “I need to go back to New York,” he said.

“Why?” She stared deep into his dark eyes. “Everything you need is right before you.”

“I know.” He leaned in and kissed her. “But something is drawing me back.” He didn’t know how to explain his recent dreams that gave him an urge to return home. They weren’t normal dreams that faded upon waking, yet it still refused to show him what he needed to do in the city. He just needed to be there. “You’ll come with me, of course,” Morgan murmured. “I will never leave your side.”

Tickets in hand, the couple boarded the train the next day and left behind the dry, windy desert. It had been many, many years since Ambrosia left but that didn’t matter with Morgan on her arm. She’d follow him to the end of the world and off a cliff.

When they arrived in New York, Morgan procured them a carriage and gave the driver an address. It wasn’t long before he stared up at the narrow brick building, half-prison, half-home.

Holding tight to Ambrosia’s hand, he knocked on the front door.

Eloise let them inside. “Daddy’s been looking for you,” she said. “Clarence came back without you.”

“Oh,” Morgan said and had to wrack his brain for who Clarence was. “Where’s your dad now?”

“Basement.”

While the little girl skipped off to the kitchen, Morgan led his soul mate down to the basement where Lewis worked himself to his breaking point with little success.

“Eloise, I told you no—” Lewis stopped when he saw the intrusion wasn’t his daughter. “What the fuck, Morgan?” he snapped. “Bring Clarence back, that’s all I told you to do. You’re worthless. You’ve always been worthless.”

“I found my soul mate,” Morgan said as if he hadn’t heard the outburst.

Lewis’ eyes narrowed as he stared at the couple. “Why would you be so stupid?” he asked in disbelief. “Did you learn nothing? I suppose you never used your brain before why need it in the future. Good riddance, boy.”

“I’m not leaving,” Morgan said. “There is something I’m supposed to do.”

“Well, it’s not with me,” Lewis growled. He picked a knife off his worktable. “Leave. Take your mate and get out. I have no use of you.”

“You never had use of me before,” Morgan snarled. “I was just a puppet to you. You wouldn’t even have Nathaniel if not for me or known where Clarence was. You’re a fraud!”

Lewis let the knife fly from his hand. He missed Morgan but the blade planted deep to the left in Ambrosia’s chest.

Ambrosia crumpled to the floor without a sound while Morgan screamed.

But she didn’t die and when she pulled the knife out herself, she didn’t bleed.

Lewis closed his eyes and wished he’d used the knife on himself instead. Another islander.

The pain was past unbearable. Morgan couldn’t move from the floor and every inch of his body felt as if it had a knife stuck in and each knife was being twisted while his skin boiled in acid.

Lewis knew there was nothing he could do and left the basement. His own body ached with a deep pain at the remembrance of losing his own soul mate. Why had he thrown that knife? He didn’t think he’d wanted to kill Morgan but him and Ambrosia connected had made something snap inside. He hated soul mates. Hated everything that had to do with them. He needed to get Clarence and find a way to break the bond between him and Nathaniel.

He and Eloise took a carriage a few miles outside the city and walked the rest of the way to the farmhouse where he’d left Nathaniel.

The boy was in decent shape, eating and talking to Mrs. Conway. He smiled to see Lewis but it was quick to vanish at the deep lines in Lewis’ face and the pain in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Everything,” was all Lewis could manage. “I’m taking you to Clarence. We’re ending this.”

“How?” Nathaniel stood and approached with slow steps. “I won’t be able to resist. I’m not strong enough.”

“Then figure out how you can be.” Lewis yanked him toward the door. “Stay here, Eloise.” The front door slammed behind them.

“I won’t be able to resist,” Nathaniel babbled. “I’ll ruin all your work.”

“My work is garbage.” Lewis eased up on his hold of the boy’s arm. “I’ve wasted enough time diddling around. I need action and results.”

“What happened?” Nathaniel begged.

“Morgan.” His hand flexed tight again around Nathaniel’s forearm. “Found his soul mate.” He swallowed and spilled the rest. “An immortal islander.”

“Oh.” Nathaniel guessed that information was known through an unfortunate accident. He pulled his arm free. “Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

He didn’t offer further reassurance but Nathaniel stepped closer to him. “I trust you,” he whispered. “Please, don’t betray me.”

Lewis gave the kid’s hand a quick squeeze and walked faster.

As they neared the city, he kept a close eye on Nathaniel and monitored his pupil dilation and breathing. He kept the boy’s hand in his and noted the steady drop in warmth. But Nathaniel kept going, kept resisting the pull of his soul mate.

***

“He’s getting closer,” Clarence moaned. He lay on the floor in the bunkroom having fallen off his bed a few minutes before. Salvatore and Tai sat next to him, petting and hugging him to offer some reassurance.

“You’re strong enough, Clare.” Tai stroked his cheek. “Remember who you are. Remember us. Don’t let your soul mate destroy that.”

Clarence squeezed his eyes shut. _Only think about your friends_ , he commanded himself. _Think about what you have now and stay in the moment._ He repeated the words again and again but each time he believed them less.

A soul mate would give him something even better. Someone who would understand him and never leave. He’d have a partner, a best friend. Why was that bad?

 _You have dreams_ , he reminded himself. _Those will be gone the second you connect. You saw what happened to Ambrosia. She abandoned her daughter and husband!_

But he would have acceptance from a soul mate. It would be even better than two friends.

Clarence groaned and rolled himself tight into a ball. Pain blocked out the battling words in his brain and he started to let it consume him. But then he remembered the General’s words and how he needed to stay in control of himself. If he couldn’t fight _this_ pain, he had zero chance of defending himself against his soul mate’s appeal.

The door of the bunkroom opened and the General’s tall, broad frame filled the space. “Clarence, come with me.”

His friends helped him to his feet and he stumbled into the General.

“You can be strong.” The General guided him out of the room and kept Clarence from falling as he tripped over his own feet countless times.

“How—” Clarence pressed a hand against the sudden jab in his chest. “How do I—” Black dots popped in his vision and his knees buckled.

The General caught him under the arm and pulled him back upright.

“—fight.” Clarence stared into the General’s smoky quartz eyes.

A strong hand pressed against Clarence’s chest over his pounding heart. “By believing in yourself. You don’t have to consent to this. Your fate is your own.”

Clarence swallowed. He sucked in a deep breath. “I believe in myself.”

“Good.” The Genera’s stern face softened for a brief moment. “You’ve already won half the battle.”

A drizzle fell outside as the General led Clarence toward the front gate. There was no point waiting inside. Better to meet Lewis and Nathaniel and get this over with.

As soon as the boys caught sight of each other, they both forgot all their training and tried to make a break for it. The General held Clarence tight, his strong frame giving the tall youth little leeway to struggle.

While tall himself, Lewis didn’t have the bulk and was grateful his charge was much smaller. His muscles bulged as he kept the fighting Nathaniel close as the boy foamed at the mouth and the wind blew the spit back in Lewis’ face. For a brief second, irritation clouded his mind and he almost let the teen go.

“Control yourself,” he commanded Nathaniel. “You don’t want this.”

“I want him,” Nathaniel replied and tried to bite his caretaker.

Lewis slapped him. “I’m about ready to make you immortal. Don’t try me. Focus, Nathaniel.” A minute flash of warmth seeped back into the boy’s body. “Good.”

As the two scientists controlled their soul mate lured charges, another person drew nearer, his own body searing with pain.

“This ends now!” Morgan shouted.

 

12

Wishing he had killed Morgan, Lewis tightened his grip on Nathaniel. “Stay focused,” he murmured.

Nathaniel’s almost-black eyes rolled back in his head. “I need Clarence.” His voice was a desperate whine. Begging for the one thing that could save him.

“Let them connect,” Morgan said. He stood between the two groups who remained fifty feet apart. “It’s what is right. It’s what we’re meant to have.”

“It’s not consent!” Clarence shouted as he managed brief control of himself. A moment later his legs gave out and he clawed at the General’s arm.

“Not connecting is against the laws of nature,” Morgan said. “It’s beautiful and perfect.” He looked back where to Ambrosia waited for him, a smile on her face twisted by pain.

It was Nathaniel’s turn to find a moment of clarity. “I have goals.” His face twitched, both eyes blinking in a rapid spasm. “I’m my own person.”

“I believe in myself,” Clarence said. The prickles burning his skin lessened and he focused on Morgan. “I don’t consent to Nathaniel.”

A shiver ran through the smaller youth and he squinted his eyes. He _saw_ Clarence. Saw his pretty freckles and curly hair. Saw his crooked teeth and slouched posture. Saw his flaws and his hopes. Saw him as a person.

Morgan stared between the two young men as he noted their postures loosening, noticed the scientists no longer struggling to hold them back. _No_. “Touch each other! Connect, you’ll feel amazing. It’s what is intended!” He continued to scream and rant not even noticing the pain in his own body vanishing.

Lewis let go of Nathaniel and stepped away from the youth. A smile formed on his lips and a wave of euphoria engulfed him as he noted the tension gone from his muscles and the foggy cloud released from his brain. It was more than he expected that the two boys could break the curse for humankind.

Shrugging off the tension in his shoulders, Nathaniel approached the General and Clarence. He stepped around the fuming Morgan. He held out his hand to Clarence. “I’m Nathaniel.”

Clarence shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Morgan ran at them and shoved them together. “No! You’re soul mates! Connect, damn you.” He turned away to look at Ambrosia and saw she no longer stood at the corner. Movement caught his eye near the gate and he spotted his former soul mate run to her husband and daughter. His lip curled and rage burst through his body. He pulled out the knife Lewis had almost stabbed him with and thrust it into the General. He torqued the blade sharply as the powerful man gasped.

“Dad!” the word slipped out of Clarence’s mouth as he attempted to catch the General as he fell.

Lewis ran over and caught Morgan before he could stab again. “What did you do?” he screamed.

“What should have been done years ago.” Morgan spat at Lewis. “What you were never brave enough to do.”

“Because I knew the consequences.” He shoved Morgan away and reached for Nathaniel as the boy started to seize. “You’ve damned everyone, Morgan. Run.”

Morgan heeded the advice—there was a first time for everything—and disappeared from sight.

Lewis sank to the damp ground with the boy cradled in his arms. He tried to block out the death wheeze and choking of the General as he coughed up blood and focused on the boy. “Nate,” he murmured. “It’s going to be okay. You did it, boy. You changed everything.”

Nathaniel’s slender hand grasped at the scientist’s shirt. “Did I do enough?” he whispered and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“More than enough.” Lewis kissed his forehead as the boy breathed his last. _You gave me back my heart._

“It’s over,” Clarence mumbled. He stepped away from the dead General. “Lewis, there—its—what do we do?”

Lewis stood with the cooling body in his arms. “Run,” he said. He made eye contact with the trembling young man. “When you and Nate broke the connection, you gave the General the ability to die and that destroyed all the immortals.” He tightened his grip on the young corpse. “The world as we know it is over, Clarence. There are no more rules.”

“But the General wanted us to break the connection.” Clarence stared at the bloody man who had been more of a father to him than his own dad.

“He couldn’t have known Morgan would kill him,” Lewis said. “But I’m sure death had its appeal after all these years. Don’t mourn for him, Clare; mourn for us. There are millions of people out there who have just realized the one thing they thought was all they had no longer exists. Those people won’t know what to do. But you do. Live your life.”

Clarence swallowed. “What are you going to do?”

“Take Nathaniel back to the island.” Lewis watched the pale face. “He never asked to leave in the first place.”

“Good luck, sir.” Clarence turned away and caught sight of his friends running toward him. He fell into Tai’s embrace. He held her with one hand and the other gripped tight to Salvatore. “The world has gone to hell but we have each other.” He looked at his friends. “That’s more than enough.”

***

Lewis helped lower the coffin into the ground. Long after the dirt covered it, he remained and stared at the plain gravestone. _Nathaniel Jenkins_. He wouldn’t let the boy rest without a father. He deserved peace in the afterlife since he sure never found it in life.

 _Peace_ , Lewis thought, a sweet word, an unknown attribute. Something he doubted the world as a whole would ever find. But he thought he might have found it for himself.

As the sun set, he stood and made his way up the dirt path to his new cottage where Eloise played in the garden. He smiled at his daughter, a smile of satisfaction that she’d grow up to make all her own choices. A smile no longer forced behind the constant ache of his heart for his long-dead wife. It was peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and/or critique would be appreciated! Thanks for reading!


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